Eudocia 


By 
EDEN  PHILLPOTTS 

EVANDER 

Green  Alleys 

Orphan  Dinah 

Miser's  Monet  ' 

The  Grey  Room 

A  Shadow  Passes 

Storm  in  a  Teacup 

The  Banks  op  Colne 

Plain  Song,  1914-1916 

Chronicles  op  Saint  Tid 

The  Human  Boy  and  the  War 


E  u  d  o  c  i  a 

(A  Comedy  Royal) 


BY 

EDEN   PHILLPOTTS 


JBeto  gotk 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1921 

All  right* 


PRINTED   IN   THE  UNITED  STATES   OF   AMERICA 


Copyright,  1921, 
By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

3et«up  and  printed.     Published  October,   1921. 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  li  Ives  Company 

New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


FOREWORD 

No  historical  value  attaches  to  this  romance,  for 
one  has  but  taken  half  a  page  from  Gibbon  and 
elaborated  the  good  story  against  its  gorgeous  back- 
ground— a  Court  as  magnificent  to  the  eye  as  con- 
temptible to  the  heart  of  man.  By  its  own  momen- 
tum the  huge  organisation  of  the  Eastern  Empire 
rolled  on  for  certain  centuries  after  the  reign  of 
Eudocia  and  Komanus,  though  the  fabric  of  the 
mass  had  long  begun  to  shed  its  substance  and  the 
axe  was  at  the  root. 

History  is  but  a  reverberation;  and  the  forces 
that  brought  down  the  Byzantines  similarly  com- 
bined against  all  earlier  civilisations  and  will  re- 
solve all  later.  We  have  seen  them  operating  in 
this  our  time,  raising  new  kingdoms  and  destroy- 
ing old,  through  the  dynamic  genius  of  an  irrational 
humanity  that  changes  not.  Only  reason  can 
secure  and  endure  stability;  but  reason  has  yet  to 
find  her  place  in  the  sun  of  man's  favour ;  no  kings 
or  peoples  bring  gold  and  frankincense  to  that 
cradle.  The  comedy  is  not,  therefore,  archaic ;  but 
read  in  the  light  of  to-day,  alive — at  least  in  spirit. 

E.  P. 


472048 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/eudociacomedyroyOOphilrich 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I    The  Palace 1 

II    The  Prison 99 

III  Beside  the  Vineyards 181 

IV  The  Cathedral 259 


CHAPTER    I 

THE  PALACE 


EUDOCIA 

CHAPTER    I 

THE  PALACE 
§1 

At  Constantinople,  during  the  year  one  thousand 
and  sixty-seven,  a  great  apartment  in  that  quarter 
of  the  royal  palace  known  as  "Daphne"  was  set  for 
an  assemblage.  Widowed  Eudocia  reigned  alone 
at  this  moment,  and  she  better  liked  the  "Daphne" 
than  those  huge  and  brazen  and  echoing  vaults  of 
"Chalce,"  where  bygone  monarchs  had  dispensed 
Byzantine  justice,  or  injustice,  through  the  cen- 
turies. 

Daphne's  throne  was  set  amid  a  semicircle  of 
lower  seats  and  lighted  by  a  rainbow  dome  of 
many-coloured  crystal.  Behind  the  regal  cushion, 
in  an  alabaster  wall,  there  stood  doors  of  silver, 
whereon  was  chased  the  story  of  victorious  wars; 

3 


4  EUDOCIA 

16  the  west  of  the  council  chamber  ascended  a 
row  of  slender  pillars,  and  beyond  them  opened  a 
broad  piazza,  shielded  from  the  noon  sunshine  by 
awnings  of  russet  and  gold.  Here,  on  marble, 
spread  the  skins  of  bear  and  tiger,  lay  scattered 
silken  cushions — orange  red,  azure,  and  ivory-white 
— and  stood  couches  of  ebony,  gemmed  with  mother- 
o' -pearl  and  onyx.  In  the  midst  a  fountain  played 
out  of  a  round  basin  overlaid  with  gold.  Trees 
waved  their  topmost  branches  along  the  balustrades 
of  this  uplifted  balcony,  and  behind  the  dusky 
glitter  of  ilex  and  the  feathers  of  phoenix  palms 
there  spread  the  silver-shot  waters  of  Marmora; 
while  beyond,  separating  sea  and  sky,  lay  south- 
ward in  a  purple  cloud  the  lands  of  Lesser  Asia. 

A  flight  of  steps  rose  from  the  gardens  to  the 
balcony,  and  now  there  ascended  a  boy  and  a  little 
withered  man  with  a  face  like  a  monkey.  He  was 
clad  fantastically,  as  became  a  jester,  and  his 
dwarfish  body  shone  in  a  doublet  of  green  silk 
slashed  with  scarlet.  Upon  his  grey  hair  he  wore 
a  velvet  bonnet  with  a  great  bronze  brooch  in  it; 
his  shrunken  legs  were  gartered  white  over  black. 

"Lizard,"  cried  the  child,  flinging  himself 
among  the  cushions,  "make  me  laugh.  I  am  tired 
of  my  book." 


THE  PALACE  5 

He  dropped  a  little  manuscript  bound  in  tor- 
toise-shell and  turned  to  his  attendant.  Saurus,  or 
the  "Lizard,"  for  none  knew  him  by  another  name, 
had  been  a  jester  at  the  Court  of  Constantine,  and 
now  was  nurse  and  watcher  to  the  dead  monarch's 
son,  Michael.  For  Eudocia  loved  the  mannikin  and 
trusted  the  prince  with  him;  while  Michael  Ducas 
himself,  precarious  heir  to  the  throne,  generally 
found  happiness  in  the  companionship  of  the 
ancient  creature. 

The  child  spoke  in  a  querulous  voice,  like  the 
whimper  of  a  young  hawk.  His  black  hair  was  cut 
straight  across  his  forehead  above  a  pair  of  black 
eyebrows  and  eyes  dark  brown  and  beautiful.  These 
he  had  won  of  his  mother ;  but  his  face  was  feminine 
in  feature  and  his  pretty,  red  mouth  seemed  rather 
made  for  kisses  than  commands.  He  was  emotional 
and  impetuous.  Already  he  loved  and  hated 
heartily;  already  he  hungered  to  know  more  than 
was  good  for  him  and  strove  to  win  state  secrets 
from  Eudocia's  women,  or  herself.  He  wore  a 
jerkin  of  purple,  and  on  his  small  brown  hands  and 
leathern  shoes  sparkled  many  a  gem. 

"Won't  your  book  make  you  laugh,  Prince?" 
inquired  the  dwarf,  as  he  sank  to  rest  in  the  shade 
beside  the  boy  and  took  off  his  cap. 


6  EUDOCIA 

"It's  all  about  dead  people,"  answered  Michael 
Ducas;  "and  when  I  laugh  I  think:  'But  these  who 
make  me  laugh  are  dead/  And  then  I  can  laugh 
no  more.    I  hate  death— I  hate  it." 

Saurus  shook  his  head. 

"Better  to  laugh  along  with  jolly  dead  men  than 
weep  with  the  sad  living,"  he  answered.  "Small 
matter  makes  for  laughter  in  these  days.  Every 
twilight  holds  a  trouble,  and  some  are  grown  so  big 
and  brave,  they'll  soon  fright  the  noonday  sunlight. 
Dark  deeds  are  brewing  and  dark  history  mak- 
ing." 

"I'll  love  you  no  more,  Lizard,"  cried  the  boy. 
"You  croak  like  an  old  raven  to  me  and  keep  your 
fun  for  others." 

"A  man  may  hide  from  the  wise  and  prudent  his 
worst,  or  best  thoughts,  and  reveal  them  to  babes, 
my  Prince." 

"I'm  not  a  babe.  My  mother  said  but  yesterday 
I  was  growing  very  wise.  A  prince  is  always  wise. 
If  you  must  croak,  then  croak  the  truth.  I  order 
you,  Lizard.  I  know  there  is  trouble  even  at  Court. 
I  see  trouble  in  the  people's  eyes,  and  their  lips 
whisper." 

"It  is  your  friend,  Nicephorus.    Alas  for  us  all ! 


THE  PALACE  7 

his  sun  is  sinking,  Michael.  Soon  he  will  be  gone, 
and  in  the  sunset  flames  of  such  a  mighty  one,  even 
the  Evening  Star  herself  may  lose  her  light." 

"Nicephorus !  He  loves  my  mother  best  of  all," 
said  Michael. 

"Would  that  she  knew  it,  Prince." 

"She  knows  everything." 

"False  knowledge  slays  the  true,"  murmured 
Saurus.    "Her  ear's  abused.    The  Caesar " 

Michael  interrupted  him. 

"Uncle  John  loves  mother,  too.  He  was  my 
father's  right  hand,  she  says." 

"A  hand,  perhaps ;  but  Caesar  never  had  a  head," 
answered  the  little  man  thoughtfully. 

Michael  stared  aghast  at  such  audacious  words. 

"You'll  lose  your  own  head,  Lizard,  if  you  dare 
say  such  things.    Is  not  Uncle  John  wise?" 

"He  is  kind  and  good  and  honest  and  loyal, 
Prince ;  but  he  has  ears,  and  at  them,  they  who  buzz 
loudest  win  to  the  chambers  of  his  royal  brain.  The 
Patriarch  and  Psellus " 

Again  Michael  broke  in. 

"I  hate  Xiphilin — I  hate  him!  And  I  hate 
Michael  Psellus  more.  I  will  never  read  his  books, 
for  they  are  sure  to  be  full  of  lies.    I  often  wish  I 


8  EUDOCIA 

were  not  called  'Michael/  because  that  name  be- 
longs to  him  as  well." 

"Think  only  of  the  good  Archangel,  Prince." 

"Michael  Psellus  makes  my  blood  run  cold  when 
his  eyes  look  at  me,  Lizard.  They  eat  me.  I  know 
he  would  gobble  me  up  like  a  wolf  if  he  could." 

Saurus  was  interested. 

"Children  and  dogs  seldom  err — so  they  say. 
They  have  a  gift  to  read  their  enemies.  Psellus  and 
the  most  reverend  Xiphilin  hold  the  Caesar  safe — 
safe  in  the  hollow  of  their  hands,  Michael.  Your 
royal  uncle,  John  Ducas,  is  honest,  but  he  has  no 
imagination — an  apt  tool  for  dishonest  men  who 
have  plenty.  The  future  all  belongs  to  Xiphilin, 
our  Patriarch;  and  not  only  shall  he  hold  the 
keys  of  hell  and  heaven,  Prince,  but  his  supreme 
word  may  soon  be  shutting  and  opening  our  prisons 
and  our  palaces  on  earth.  He  is  hungrier  for  power 
than  Satan." 

Michael  snorted  indignantly. 

"Black-bearded  pig !  Does  dear  Nicephorus  know 
that  the  Patriarch  and  Psellus  are  his  foes,  Lizard?" 

"Aye,  he  knows  well  enough." 

"Be  it  as  it  may,  my  mother  is  the  Empress  and 
needs  none  to  help  her,  though  ministers  fret  and 


THE  PALACE  9 

quarrel,"  said  the  child;  but  Saurus  shook  his 
head. 

"On  God's  good  earth  there's  but  one  weaker 
than  an  Emperor,  and  that's  an  Empress,  Michael." 

"How  dare  you  say  that?  My  mother  would 
chop  out  your  wicked  tongue  if  she  heard  you." 

"None  knows  it  better  than  she;  and  better  still 
will  know  it  when  Mcephorus  has  fallen." 

He  sighed,  put  his  face  in  his  hands,  then  lifted 
it  and  spoke  again. 

"Nicephorus  was  her  sword,  and  they  have 
whispered  to  her  that  Roman  blade  is  poisoned. 
Even  his  friends,  who  wish  him  no  more  than  peace 
— even  they  tell  Eudocia  that  his  edge  is  blunt  from 
a  lifetime  of  service,  and  must  now  hide  in  a 
dishonourable  sheath.  What  a  race  are  we — we 
Byzantines !  When  we  would  punish  a  mighty  one 
for  ever  fallen  from  power,  what  do  we  do, 
young  Michael?" 

"Put  out  his  eyes,  and  cut  off  his  nose  and  his 
ears,"  answered  the  child  promptly. 

"That  is  our  strenuous  custom,"  admitted 
Saurus;  "but  sometimes  we  choose  a  more  Chris- 
tian way,  and  leave  him  his  eyes,  to  find  the  road 
to  heaven,  and  spare  his  ears,  that  he  may  heed  the 


10  EUDOCIA 

message  of  the  Church  and  save  his  soul.  Such 
subjects  of  royal  clemency  go  to  the  priesthood, 
with  a  snug  monastery  for  their  prison-house.  Yet 
is  it  well,  think  you,  that  a  servant  of  kings,  flung 
down  for  crime  against  the  Empire,  should,  for  his 
disgrace  and  scourge  and  punishment,  be  made  a 
minister  of  the  Most  High?" 

But  the  boy  quailed  before  a  vision,  and  was  not 
concerned  with  the  general  problem. 

"Mcephorus  turned  into  a  monk  with  shaven 
head!"  he  cried;  "his  white  hair  cropped  off  his 
skull.    Mother  could  not " 

"The  Caesar  is  convinced;  the  Senate  go  with 
him." 

"But  he  is  good,  I  tell  you,  Lizard.  The  Csesar 
is  very  good.  Was  he  not  my  own  father's 
brother?" 

"Granted,  Prince;  and  none  judges  goodness  so 
shrewdly  as  a  knave,  or  quicklier  uses  the  goodness 
of  a  good  man  to  better  his  own  wickedness.  Da- 
mascus steel  must  keep  its  temper,  though  in  a 
villain's  hand." 

"Listen  to  me,  old  Lizard.  My  mother  is  the  soul 
of  all  things  good,  and  cannot  she  and  Uncle  John 
make  of  their  goodness  strength  to  save  Nice- 
phorus?" 


THE  PALACE  11 

"When  good  meets  good,  evil  often  follows, 
Prince." 

But  the  boy  denied  it. 

"Now  you  lie,  Lizard,  for  I  have  a  book  that  says 
two  rights  cannot  make  a  wrong." 

"Then  burn  your  book,"  answered  the  jester. 
"Your  book  is  the  liar,  not  I.  All  history,  all  knowl- 
edge prove  they  can.  Meant  not  they  well  who 
forced  the  hemlock  on  Socrates  and  crucified  the 
world's  Saviour  for  blasphemy?  Meant  not  they 
well ?" 

He  broke  off,  for  two  men  had  entered  the  Daphne 
from  a  minor  door. 

"See  who  come  here — one  a  well -meaner — and 


one- 


Michael  had  risen  and  run  to  the  shorter  of  the 
approaching  figures.  Both  were  attired  for  a  ses- 
sion of  Court,  but  while  Michael  Psellus,  the  his- 
torian and  statesman,  wore  few  jewels  upon  the 
rich  amber  and  russet  of  his  gaberdine,  John  Ducas 
displayed  about  his  short,  full-bodied  and  unim- 
posing  person  the  decorations  of  the  Caesar,  his 
green  shoon  and  open  tiara.  His  frock  was  stiff 
with  gems,  and  he  sought  a  chair  and  passed  a  silken 
handkerchief  over  his  fat  and  kindly  face,  as  his 
nephew  hastened  into  his  arms.     For  a  moment 


12  EUDOCIA 

anxiety  left  the  Caesar's  countenance:  he  smiled 
upon  the  child  and  only  lost  his  smile  when  he 
heard  young  Michael  speak. 

"Uncle  John,  dear  Uncle  John,  what  terrible  sad 
thing  is  this  I  hear?    Oh,  say  it  isn't  true." 

"True  things  are  terrible  and  sad  sometimes,  my 
pretty  one,"  answered  Ducas,  sighing. 

"But  Mcephorus — the  Lizard  tells  me  that  dear, 
dear  Mcephorus  must  shave  his  head." 

"Or  lose  his  head,"  replied  Michael  Psellus.  He 
was  a  tall,  thin  man  with  an  aquiline  face  and  lofty 
brow.  His  hands  were  long  and  beautiful,  but  they 
were  restless  and  seemed  to  be  always  itching  for 
the  stylus.  Men  feared  him,  as  all  who  wrote  were 
feared  at  that  time ;  but  the  Caesar  esteemed  him  for 
a  fountain  of  wisdom  and  entertained  no  suspicion 
of  his  loyalty. 

"Perhaps  a  lesser  evil,"  snapped  Saurus,  who 
feared  none  and  hated  the  man  of  letters. 

Whereupon  Psellus  flashed  lightning  on  the  an- 
cient imp. 

"Guard  your  lips  wiser,  fool,"  he  answered.  "It 
is  well  for  you  no  priest  heard  that." 

Meantime  John  Ducas  listened  to  his  nephew. 

"And  so  Michael  turns  to  business  of  the  State?" 
he  asked,  stroking  the  boy's  sleek  hair. 

"There's    none   like    him — none    like    splendid 


THE  PALACE  13 

Mcephorus  in  all  the  world,"  vowed  Michael,  while 
the  Caesar  grew  grave. 

"Indeed  I  hope  not,  nephew.  Get  yon  back  to 
your  books  and  games ;  and  yon,  Saurus,  entertain 
his  young  ears  with  sweeter  stuff  than  politics. 
Keep  his  heart  clean  and  his  forehead  free  a  little 
longer." 

"Mcephorus  will  fight,"  cried  Michael  in  a 
passion.  "He  will  fight  you,  Psellus;  and  I,  too, 
will  fight  against  you." 

"Be  wise  and  only  fight  your  enemies,  not  your 
friends,  most  noble  Sir,"  answered  Psellus,  smiling. 

"And  so  you  shall  fight,"  promised  the  Caesar, 
"and  buckle  on  a  good  sword,  when  your  young 
body  is  stout  enough  to  bear  it.  Now  begone.  The 
Court  assembles  here." 

"Come,  Prince,"  begged  Saurus;  and  Michael, 
still  heaving  with  childish  anger,  loitered  away  to 
the  steps. 

"I  want  my  mother,"  he  said  petulantly,  as  he 
disappeared  with  his  grotesque  guardian. 

§2 

Upon  the  boy's  departure,  Caesar  and  Psellus 
proceeded  with  a  conversation  into  which  he  had 
broken. 


14  EUDOCIA 

"It  is  done  as  I  have  declared  to  you,"  said  John 

Ducas,  " well  done,  but  painfully  done.     The 

Empress  is  now  convinced,  and  the  issue  of  the  trial 
upon  our  evidence  can  only  be  his  destruction.  She 
was  upset.  Mcephorus  enjoyed  my  brother's  trust 
for  so  many  years,  and  she  has  long  regarded  him 
as  her  pillar  and  stand-by.  But  Eudocia  is  just. 
He  must  fall,  for  he  will  not  deny  the  charge.  She 
knows  that  it  is  not  my  fault ;  and  yet  in  her  eyes 
I  see  our  old  friendship  strained  a  little." 

"That  was  bound  to  be.  A  woman  always  finds 
it  hardest  to  forgive  those  who  lay  bare  her  errors." 

But  the  Caesar  shook  his  head. 

"She  committed  no  error.  The  thing  that 
Nicephorus  has  done  was  hidden  from  her  until  I 
revealed  it.  It  was  but  the  natural  attitude  our 
human  nature  is  prone  to  take  towards  the  bringer 
of  ill  news.  For  a  moment  we  associate  messengers 
and  their  tidings.  Well  she  knows  that  she  and 
her  little  son  are  very  near  my  heart.  The  State 
alone  is  nearer.  Do  you  mark  this  new  jewel  in  my 
neck  chain?  The  heaviest  emerald  known  on  earth. 
Eudocia  must  needs  give  it  me  upon  my  birthday." 

Psellus  scanned  the  amazing  gem,  but  showed  no 
admiration.    His  thoughts  ran  on. 


THE  PALACE  15 

"You're  a  genius,"  he  said.  "Much  I  feared  that 
Eudocia  would  resist  us  at  the  last,  and  cleave  to 
him  against  all  report." 

"Not  mine  the  credit,"  answered  the  other,  strok- 
ing his  emerald  with  a  fat  forefinger.  "Proof  is 
proof,  and  Xiphilin's  word  it  was  that  drove  home 
the  charge.  The  Patriarch  pleaded  subtly  with  her 
and  showed  the  increasing  danger." 

Psellus  nodded. 

"It  is  not  only  Mcephorus,  but  what  must  follow 
his  fall !  Had  she  not  the  wit  to  look  ahead,  count 
the  cost,  and  guess  the  sequel?" 

"No;  nor  I  the  heart  to  show  it  her,"  answered 
the  Caesar.  "Yet,  perchance  she  saw,"  he  con- 
tinued, again  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his 
round  brow.  "There's  little  she  cannot  mark  with 
those  wonderful  eyes.  They  may  look  as  far  into 
the  future  as  our  own." 

"Ours  see  a  goal  that  Eudocia  will  not  love,  for 
she's  proud.  But  the  Nation  was  never  less  a  toy 
for  a  woman  than  to-day.  Nicephorus  pandered  to 
her." 

"I  would  not  say  so.  She  has  had  to  thank  you 
largely  for  her  education,  Michael  Psellus,  and  you 
have  never  denied  her  to  be  an  apt  pupil.    Eudocia 


16  EUDOCIA 

is  wise  and  has  served  a  stern  apprenticeship.  My 
brother,  Constantine,  owned  some  philosophy,  and 
imparted  it  to  his  young  wife." 

"Not  such  philosophy  as  she  will  need  now,  how- 
ever," answered  Psellus.  "Granted  her  gifts,  her 
light  is  out ;  and  the  late  Emperor  is  to  be  thanked 
for  that." 

"How  so?  You  deal  ever  in  enigmas,"  replied 
John  Ducas  somewhat  warmly. 

"No  enigma,  great  Caesar.  Did  not  Constantine 
ordain  for  her  the  widow's  portion  under  sacred 
oath?  But  Byzantine  queens,  if  queens  they  still 
would  be,  need  husbands.  So  she  departs,  whither 
we  know,  and  he — young  Michael — and  yourself 
jointly  share  the  throne.  Thus  only  is  your  dynasty 
guarded.  Your  royal  brother  foresaw  as  much 
when  he  imposed  the  oath  upon  her  in  his  dying 
hour." 

"I  never  held  it  so." 

"Great  Prince,  you  must  hold  it  so,"  answered 
the  other  firmly.  "Those  sworn  to  your  service 
may  speak  without  fear  of  being  misunderstood. 
Then  what  is  the  truth?  A  Caesar  in  these  times 
may  lose  his  eyes  as  swiftly  as  a  slave.  For  you, 
to-day,  John  Ducas,  the  throne's  the  safest  place — 
perhaps  the  only  place  of  safety." 


THE  PALACE  17 

The  royal  man  puffed  out  his  breath  impatiently 
and  his  forehead  showed  a  frown. 

"I  loathe  conspiracy,"  he  answered;  and  Psellus 
ran  on  in  level  accents : 

"Why  call  it  that?  To  ingeminate  healthy 
change  is  not  conspiracy,  but  rather  patriotism.  The 
State  has  crying  need  of  you,  and  you  of  it ;  though 
you  better  love  the  cares  of  mart  and  field.  United 
with  imperial  power,  you  stand;  divided,  who 
knows?  But  this  we  know :  none  may  be  separated 
from  his  destiny." 

"I  fear,  Psellus;  I  fear." 

"There's  nothing  to  be  feared  but  dalliance  and 
shirking  of  duty,  Caesar.  I  am  used  to  read  men — 
it  is  my  business  as  chronicler — and  I  know  you 
better  than  you  know  yourself.  You  cannot  fear. 
And  remember  that  the  Church  has  spoken  clearly. 
Xiphilin  is  of  my  mind.  Indeed  his  inspiration 
showed  the  inevitable  way." 

"It  were  none  the  less  better — a  thousand  times 
better — if  she  might  wed  again,"  answered  the 
brother-in-law  of  the  Empress;  and  then  it  was  the 
part  of  Michael  Psellus  to  reveal  impatience. 

"  'If 'if ' "  he  said.     "We  cannot  waste 

our  brains  with  'ifs,'  royal  Sir.  They're  doubtful 
slaves  at  best  and  fatal  stumbling  blocks  to  action. 


18  EUDOCIA 

That  matter  is  settled  for  ever — as  unutterably 
fixed  as  the  rooted  corner  stone  of  our  walls.  She, 
the  Queen,  beside  her  dying  husband,  took  oath  to 
wed  no  more.  The  Patriarch  heard  her  vow,  and  it 
is  written  on  parchment  and  shrined  within  St. 
Sophia's — to  last  till  Doom.  To  her  dead  husband 
and  her  living  God  she  is  a  widow  for  ever,  and, 
being  so,  must  yield  the  throne  to  her  son  and  you. 
The  dynasty  demands  that  sacrifice,  if  sacrifice  it 
be." 

"I  love  her,  Psellus,"  answered  the  elder.  "Not 
for  her  bearing  only,  but  her  pride,  her  grace,  her 
joy  of  life.  Is  it  not  hard  that  such  a  royal  spirit, 
such  a  rich  soul,  should  doff  the  robe  she  wears  so 
well,  yield  up  the  sceptre  and  steal  away  to  some 
sad,  holy  nook  to  eat  her  heart  out?" 

But  Psellus  was  no  sentimentalist. 

"You  speak  as  a  relative,  not  a  statesman,  when 
you  ask  me  that,"  he  answered.  "A  Caesar  must 
banish  domestic  predilections.  One  Empress  less 
and  one  nun  more  is  little  matter  in  a  nation's  story. 
Let  women  reign  over  women  if  they  will,  not  over 
half  the  world.    She  was  not  born  in  the  Porphyry." 

Caesar  changed  the  subject. 

"Does  Nicephorus  know  that  his  hour  has 
struck?"  he  asked. 

"Well  enough.    The  Court  is  full  of  spies.  Where 


THE  PALACE  19 

the  corn  is,  the  vermin  are  not  far  off.   Was  sen- 
tence hinted  at?    Did  Xiphilin  tonch  it?" 

"Yes — the  Church — a  monastery  where  he  best 
pleases." 

Psellus  showed  disappointment. 

"Nicephorus  is  safer  in  his  grave,"  he  answered. 
"A  man  may  doff  the  hooded  robe  as  easily  as 
he  puts  it  on ;  but  he  cannot  put  on  his  head  again." 

"Her  trust  is  dead,"  answered  John  Ducas;  "yet, 
for  old  time's  sake,  she  will  never  take  his  life.  A 
tender  memory  often  rides  over  present  wrong,  to 
weaken  policy  and  soften  judgment.  Be  warned. 
Urge  no  capital  punishment  nor  bodily  outrage  upon 
Nicephorus,  or  you  will  lose  her  friendship.  He 
must  go  to  the  cloister — no  hardship  that  for  one 
of  his  philosophy  and  contemplative  spirit." 

"  'Philosophy,' "  sneered  the  writer.  "Is  it 
philosophy  to  wait  on  the  event  and  never  stir  until 
a  thing  has  happened?  In  statecraft,  or  life-craft, 
who  but  a  fool  does  that,  knowing  the  time  we  waste 
is  not  wasted  by  our  enemies?" 

"There  are  spirits  too  great  for  politics,  that  cry 
so  loudly  always  for  instant  deeds,"  replied  the 
other  wearily.  "Only  a  small  mind  knows  how  to 
make  itself  up  quickly,  and  too  much  brain  often 
begets  too  little  action." 

"In  these  days  your  waiting,  watching  intellect 


20  EUDOCIA 

breeds  death,"  answered  Michael  Psellus.  "An  open 
mind  at  our  helm  will  wreck  the  shuddering  ship, 
for  each  wave  may  be  the  last." 

As  he  spoke  figures  ascended  from  the  palace  gar- 
dens; a  cross  of  gold  flashed  and  came  forward, 
where  three  acolytes  walked  abreast ;  while  behind 
them  followed  two  priests  and  Xiphilin,  the  Patri- 
arch of  the  East. 

He  was  a  square-built,  solid  man,  clad  in  a  black 
robe  unadorned  save  for  a  cross  of  precious  stones 
upon  his  bosom.  He  wore  a  black  hat  without  a 
brim,  and  his  remarkable  face  was  swarthy,  round 
and  heavily  bearded.  His  eyes  shone  with  a  bold 
and  fierce  lustre,  his  heavy  nose  was  hooked,  his 
beautiful  voice  rang  like  a  clarion  and  spoke  of 
birth  and  breeding.  For  Xiphilin  was  a  Patrician 
— one  who  had  abjured  the  privileges  of  his  rank 
and  entered  the  Church,  to  seek  therein  higher 
power  than  a  neglected  and  impotent  nobility  could 
offer.  Ambition  burned  in  his  eyes,  and  from  his 
supreme,  sacerdotal  eminence  he  already  sought 
nearer  worlds  than  heaven  to  conquer.  At  the  age 
of  five  and  forty  he  had  reached  the  Patriarchal 
throne,  to  find  a  thorn ;  for  the  gulf  that  separated 
the  formidable  sovereignty  of  a  Western  Pope  from 
an  Eastern  Patriarch,  making  the  latter  a  small 


THE  PALACE  21 

figure  by  comparison,  tortured  Xiphilin  in  his  sleep- 
ing and  waking  hours.  Under  the  Eastern  consti- 
tution he  must  remain  a  servant  of  the  Throne, 
and  any  servitude  was  poison  to  his  soul.  Now  his 
constructive  and  restless  mind  had  entered  into 
court  intrigue  and  he  held  that  the  Church,  for  her 
own  welfare  and  the  nation's  salvation,  must  aid 
the  State  at  a  crisis,  dethrone  the  widowed  Em- 
press and  advance  the  Caesar  and  her  son.  In  com- 
mon with  others  he  dreaded  a  woman's  rule ;  nor  did 
he  love  Eudocia,  but  guessed  that  John  Ducas 
would  prove  a  more  compliant  monarch  and  friend- 
lier to  his  purposes  than  she.  He  hated  sex,  and 
set  its  potency  in  affairs  to  the  credit  of  women 
rather  than  men.  His  theological  bias  set  fero- 
ciously against  all  things  feminine,  and  he  had  as 
yet  known  no  high  interests  served  by  human  love. 
The  lust  of  the  flesh  was  a  hunger  unfelt  by  him ; 
under  the  lust  of  the  spirit  he  went  in  chains. 

The  Caesar  and  Psellus  saluted  Xiphilin  with 
reverence.  Then  the  historian  paid  compliment  to 
his  recent  diplomacy. 

"You  have  done  well,  Patriarch,  and  won  her 
Majesty,"  he  said. 

"Not  unto  me  the  praise,"  replied  Xiphilin,  from 
force  of  habit.    "Rather  thank  Heaven,  that  opened 


22  EUDOCIA 

Eudocia's  heart  to  wisdom  and  convinced  her  we 
spoke  truth.  You  must  leap  into  the  saddle  in- 
stantly, Psellus." 

"Her  wish  ?" 

"Her  need — the  Nation's  need.  Mcephorus  can- 
not fall  unless  you  rise.  The  Senate  knows  there 
is  none  else." 

Michael  Psellus  saw  the  ambition  of  long,  patient 
years  gratified  at  last.  He  stood  the  Prime  Minister 
of  the  East.  For  a  moment  he  closed  his  eyes  and 
breathed  gently.  His  fingers  still  seemed  reaching 
for  a  pen. 

The  Caesar's  voice  recalled  him  to  himself. 

"There  is  more  work  yet.  The  Governor  of 
Thrace  answers  his  indictment — high  treason  to 
the  Throne." 

"Romanus  Diogenes  is  doomed,"  declared  Xiphi- 
lin.  "The  witnesses  are  come  along  with  him: 
Zonaras  and  Philagrius — very  honest,  high-born 
men,  who  heard  with  their  own  ears  the  thing  he 
said.  My  brother,  Bardas,  their  present  host,  is 
much  cast  down,  for  he  and  Romanus  were  old 
camp-fellows,  and  Bardas  held  him  in  great 
esteem." 

"Much  I  mourn  this  catastrophe  also,"  answered 


THE  PALACE  23 

John   Ducas;   "for   Romanus   was   a   very    great 
general." 

"Also  a  very  great  fool/'  added  Michael  Psellus. 
"As  many  generals  are." 

"Right  must  be  done;  flagrant  treason  must  be 
paid,"  asserted  the  Patriarch. 

"And  yet  they  whisper  that  the  mercenaries  will 
make  grave  trouble  if  ill  betide  him,"  ventured  the 
Caesar. 

As  he  spoke  there  entered  a  small  company,  and 
two  Thracians,  about  to  testify  against  the  Gover- 
nor of  Thrace,  together  with  Xiphilin's  brother, 
Bardas,  a  centurion  and  a  small  band  of  Varangian 
guards  came  into  the  Daphne,  ascending  thereto 
from  the  groves  beneath. 

Bardas,  the  Protostrator,  was  a  showy  man  of 
thirty-five — taller,  more  shapely  and  younger  by 
ten  years  than  the  Patriarch.  As  keeper  of  the 
royal  hawks  and  hounds  he  filled  a  position  of  no 
political  importance,  yet  not  a  sinecure.  He  prided 
himself  upon  his  skill  in  all  matters  pertaining  to 
sport ;  the  people  adored  him,  for  he  ordered  their 
shows  in  the  hippodrome;  he  was  of  a  convention- 
ally handsome  exterior,  with  a  beard,  which  he 
combed  and  curled  after  the  Assyrian  manner,  and 


24  EUDOCIA 

rolling  eyes  the  women  loved.  He  had  not  shone  in 
war,  and  revealed  no  ambition  again  to  desert  the 
palace  for  the  field.  He  feared  his  brother,  and 
Xiphilin  despised  him. 

Philagrius  and  Zonaras  were  elderly  men,  who 
came  not  willingly  to  Court.  Weary  from  their 
journey,  they  saluted  the  Caesar  as  he  greeted  them. 

"Welcome  from  Thrace,  good  friends,"  said  John 
Ducas ;  "would  that  you  were  at  Constantinople  on 
a  happier  errand." 

"And  so  would  we,"  replied  Zonaras.  "We  share 
the  Caesar's  lament  and  are  here  unwillingly." 

He  spoke  without  awe  and  revealed  indifference 
to  the  splendid  figures  about  him. 

"Romanus  was  dear  to  us,"  explained  the  other. 

"And  ever  shall  be,"  added  Zonaras.  Then  Phi- 
lagrius, the  suaver  man,  proceeded : 

"We  sat  at  meat  with  him — his  guests.  We  drank 
his  wine,  were  merry  and  set  no  value  upon  the 
fatal  words.  But  secret  enemies,  hungry  to  stab, 
shared  the  board.  They  told  the  thing  again  in  its 
nakedness,  unsoftened  by  the  circumstances,  and 
out  of  its  setting." 

Bardas  strutted  and  fumed  while  the  Thracians 
spoke.  He  talked  in  a  big  voice  and  showed  indig- 
nation.    But  he  was  a  theatrical  soul  and  acted 


THE  PALACE  25 

from  habit  even  when  in  earnest.  He  knew  the 
grace  of  his  deportment,  his  charm  of  movement, 
and  though  these  were  in  a  measure  lost  under  the 
bejewelled  robes  of  Court  he  now  wore,  yet  the  man 
presented  a  figure  sufficiently  imposing  as  he  glit- 
tered and  strutted  like  a  peacock. 

"Trash!  Trash  and  insensate  folly!"  he  cried. 
"It  must  not  be.  It  shall  not  be.  Romanus  is  the 
heart,  the  soul  of  our  Northern  armies.  Crush  this 
trumped-up  knavery  in  the  bud  and  save  him, 
brother." 

He  turned  to  Xiphilin,  but  the  Patriarch  refused 
the  light  of  his  countenance. 

"Windy  words  are  vain,"  he  answered. 

"And  what  were  the  words  of  Romanus  but  a 
gust  of  wind  in  his  cups?  A  jest  for  friends;  no 
more." 

"Not  so  the  informers  say,"  replied  Caesar.  "Ro- 
manus Diogenes  is  as  temperate  as  he's  chaste.  He 
spoke  in  earnest." 

"Then  he  will  die  in  earnest,"  added  Michael 
Psellus;  and  Bardas  exploded  with  wrath. 

"Oh  blessed  God!  Are  these  the  days  for  slay- 
ing generals?  We  need  more — a  thousand  more— 
than  we  can  find.  This  man's  a  mighty  captain. 
They  who  fought  beside  him,  as  I  have,  know  it; 


26  EUDOCIA 

and  better  still  those  who  have  fought  against 
him." 

"Heroism  cannot  prevail  against  high  treason," 
declared  John  Ducas.  Then  he  directed  the  centu- 
rion to  fetch  his  prisoner. 

The  soldier  ventured  a  word  before  he  departed. 

He  was  a  fair,  burly  man  with  a  tanned,  red  face 
and  close-cut  sandy  hair — a  mercenary  who  had 
drifted  into  the  employment  of  the  Eastern  Empire 
with  thousands  of  his  countrymen. 

He  spoke  with  an  accent  that  amused  his  listen- 
ers; but  he  spoke  to  the  point. 

"Let  a  plain  man  address  your  honours — one  who 
knows  the  general  and  his  might — one  who  has  seen 
the  Seljouk  Turks  fly  before  his  shadow.  Touch 
but  a  hair  of  his  mane  in  Constantinople  and  the 
Varangians " 

Psellus  cut  him  short. 

"Peace,  barbarian !  Who  is  this  that  threatens? 
Fetch  your  prisoner." 

The  Varangian  looked  at  him  without  fear. 

"  'Peace,'  you  say,  great  lord?  These  Patricians, 
who  came  along  with  us,  will  tell  you  what  peace 
you  are  like  to  enjoy  in  Thrace,  dare  you  destroy 
that  man !" 

He  gave  a  word  of  command  and  disappeared 


THE  PALACE  27 

with  his  detachment.  They  were  big,  fair,  broad- 
shouldered  Northerners  like  himself.  Bardas  fol- 
lowed them,  still  gesticulating. 

"You  silence  him,"  said  Zonaras ;  "but  he  tells  the 
truth.  Sound  statesmanship  had  let  this  matter 
pass,  or,  for  a  lesson,  deprived  the  informers  of  their 
long  ears." 

"Do  you  teach  us  our  business,  Zonaras?"  asked 
the  historian. 

"It  seems  we  can,"  replied  the  Thracian  stoutly. 

"Indeed  it  was  most  innocent  treason,"  continued 
Philagrius.  "For  consider ;  where,  after  all,  is  the 
crime  when  a  man  wishes  he  might  wed  a  widow?" 

"Take  heed,  Philagrius,"  replied  the  Patriarch 
sternly.  "A  crime,  and  worse  than  a  crime,  that 
man  commits  who  would  seek  a  widow  sworn  to 
widowhood.  Are  sacred  oaths  held  so  lightly  in 
Thrace?" 

"You'll  rob  the  State  of  her  first  soldier  and  the 
armies  of  the  leader  they  best  love,"  answered  Phil- 
agrius, while  Michael  Psellus  exhibited  impatience. 

"What  a  stir  and  splutter  we  make  about  this 
Governor,"  he  said.  "What  has  he  done  above  his 
duty?  One  would  think  a  thousand  victories  stood 
to  his  credit.  Where  are  his  statues?  Where  are 
his  triumphs?" 


28  EUDOCIA 

"It  is  for  him  to  ask  a  selfish  and  ungrateful 
State  that  question,''  replied  Zonaras.  "He  earned 
them,  and  not  for  gratitude  but  justice  he  should 
have  had  them." 

But  a  greater  than  Romanus  now  appeared  upon 
the  stage  where  he  was  called  to  answer  for  his  acts. 

§  3 

Mcephorus,  the  fallen  Prime  Minister,  entered 
with  no  larger  retinue  than  a  couple  of  old  men  and 
a  clerk ;  while  the  two  Thracians  went  their  way  to 
the  balcony  and  thence  descended  to  the  gardens 
beneath. 

The  statesman  who  had  controlled  the  destinies 
of  the  realm  under  his  late  master,  Constantine, 
presented  a  contrast  to  those  that  now  saluted  him. 
He  wore  the  toga  and  pursued  in  spirit  the  ancient 
ideals.  He  was  tall,  still  upright,  with  thick,  short, 
snowy  hair  and  a  large,  clean-shaven  face.  His 
eyes  were  grey,  his  features  fine,  but  heavily  mod- 
elled, his  forehead  little  lined.  His  chin  was  still 
round  and  firm,  and  his  mouth  cast  in  a  genial  ex- 
pression, which  echoed  the  twinkle  of  his  eyes.  He 
might  have  been  a  great  comedian,  save  for  the 
brow,  broader  than  any  comedian  ever  carried. 


THE  PALACE  29 

There  was  something  akin  to  a  mask  in  this  large, 
fleshy  face,  and  indeed,  mnch  that  belonged  to 
Nicephorus  no  man  had  fathomed.  A  naked  arm, 
that  protruded  from  his  white  robe,  was  still  firm 
of  muscle  and  finely  moulded  to  the  thick  wrist  and 
square  hand.  He  belied  the  Caesar's  criticism,  for 
Nicephorus  betrayed  will  in  his  face  and  resolution 
in  his  walk.  He  could  act  as  well  as  scheme;  he 
could  read  men,  in  virtue  of  wide  sympathies,  and 
control  them  by  the  art  to  win.  He  knew  that 
nothing  was  to  be  had  for  nothing,  and  carried  that 
experience  into  politics.  The  turns  and  twists  of 
fortune  had  left  him  as  they  found  him — indifferent 
to  personal  prosperity  or  private  gain.  He  had 
striven  with  a  single  heart  for  the  Empire ;  and  now 
he  was  not  discontent  to  take  his  departure,  yet 
mourned  the  manner  of  it.  A  master  of  statecraft 
and  a  man  of  larger  intellect  than  those  who  now 
held  the  whip  hand  of  him,  Nicephorus  possessed  in 
addition  two  qualities  alike  rare  in  his  day.  His 
outlook  upon  life  was  clarified  by  a  sense  of  humour 
and  purified  by  "aidos," — that  ethical  virtue  which 
may  be  translated  "ruth."  These  endowments  of 
laughter  and  pity  were  radical  to  the  man,  and  had 
sustained  his  spirit  and  often  puzzled  his  peers. 
He  was  a  childless  widower,  and  certain  noble 


30  EUDOCIA 

women  understood  him  better  and  more  rightly 
valued  in  him  qualities  that  men  accounted  levity 
and  weakness.  He  knew  the  peril  in  which  he  now 
stood,  yet  felt  not  deeply  concerned  to  extricate 
himself,  nor  guessed  what  singular  chance  might 
give  him  the  opportunity  to  do  so. 

"Still  the  Koman  manner !"  sneered  Michael  Psel- 
lus  under  his  breath  to  Xiphilin;  then  the  Csesar 
spoke,  in  a  voice  that  embraced  both  melancholy  and 
respect. 

"Mcephorus,  hail !"  said  he. 

"Mcephorus,  hail !"  echoed  the  Patriarch  with  a 
different  inflection. 

"All  hail,  Mcephorus!"  added  Michael  Psellus. 

The  white-headed  man  acknowledged  their  greet- 
ings. 

"The  living  salute  the  dying,"  he  said.  "That  is 
to  change  our  gladiators'  order." 

Then  he  challenged  directly,  yet  with  a  sort  of 
humorous  irony  that  lightened  his  speech. 

"Tell  me,  Caesar,  since  when  hath  our  most  lordly 
king  of  beasts  chosen  to  hunt  with  the  lesser  crea- 
tures? Could  you  not  pull  down  this  ancient 
quarry  all  alone?" 

John  Ducas  flushed  and  puffed  his  cheeks. 


THE  PALACE  31 

"The  State  welcomes  every  helping  hand,  so  that 
it  be  guided  by  a  loyal  heart,"  he  answered. 

"Why,  that  is  wisely  said,"  admitted  the  other; 
then  Xiphilin  took  up  the  theme. 

"And  when  such  hearts  chime  in  harmony " 

But  Mcephorus  interrupted. 

"Wisdom  in  numbers,  Patriarch !  Well,  that  too, 
is  an  opinion.  This,  our  modern  world,  is  full  of 
opinions.    They  take  the  place  of  ideas." 

Michael  Psellus  went  deeper  and  the  fallen  coun- 
sellor understood  his  meaning.  They  had  measured 
swords  for  ten  years. 

"Our  life  itself  is  only  an  opinion,"  summed  the 
historian.  "If  we  live,  then  the  world  must  know 
that,  in  our  opinion,  life  is  yet  worth  while." 

"True ;  and  if  we  cease  to  live,  we  tell  the  world 
our  life's  grown  worthless,"  replied  Mcephorus. 

"Only  when  our  own  will  makes  an  end  of  it," 
said  the  matter-of-fact  Caesar ;  whereupon  Xiphilin, 
quick  to  resent  doubtful  doctrines,  reminded  them 
that  life  came  from  God. 

Nicephorus  answered  in  pagan  terms. 

"We're  bid,  no  doubt,  to  lift  the  load  at  the 
Almighty's  time;  but  by  His  grace  it  is  our  privi- 
lege to  drop  it  when  we  choose,"  he  answered. 


32  EUDOCIA 

"Can  you  say  that  and  claim  to  be  a  Christian?" 
asked  the  priest.    "You  have  yet  much  to  learn." 

Psellus  brought  the  matter  back  to  a  personal 
channel. 

"Are  you,  for  one,  not  weary  of  your  life, 
Nicephorus?"  he  asked  bluntly,  and  the  other  an- 
swered that  he  was  not. 

"Of  old  I  may  have  been ;  but  never  less  than  to- 
day, Michael,"  he  replied.  "Life,  when  you  have 
learned  to  live,  can  be  a  very  good  and  wholesome 
thing,  my  friend.  The  problem's  there.  Our  Xiphi- 
lin  teaches  us  how  to  die ;  but  flouts  the  ancient  wis- 
dom, that  reminded  us  the  beasts  and  fishes  and 
fowls  of  the  air  can  die  as  well  as  we.  No,  no,  you 
must  not  suppose  your  difficulties  will  be  banished 
that  way.  I'll  not  willingly  quit  the  cabin  till  the 
chimney  smokes,  for  the  place  is  still  habitable ;  the 
sun  is  warm  upon  my  head ;  the  air  is  sweet  in  my 
lungs;  sleeping  I  am  still  glad  to  know  I  shall 
waken  again." 

Ducas  regarded  him  with  curious  interest,  for  he 
had  suspected  Nicephorus  might  choose  to  make  his 
own  exit  after  the  curtain  fell  on  his  affairs. 

"You  say  that,  standing  where  you  stand?"  he 
asked. 

"He  does  not  stand,  he  has  fallen,  Caesar." 

Psellus  spoke  and  Nicephorus  turned  to  him. 


THE  PALACE  33 

His  voice  had  lost  its  banter,  but  no  shadow  of 
temper  tinctured  it.    He  spoke  earnestly. 

"Aye,  Michael — fallen,  but  not  shattered.  This 
brings  neither  terror  nor  heart-break  in  its  train  for 
me — nor  yet  much  astonishment,  for  I  guessed  from 
the  first  that  what  I  have  done  would  reach  your 
ears  and  the  Senate's.  But  no  stroke  of  fortune 
from  without  can  hurt  our  holy  of  holies.  There 
Xiphilin  is  with  me.  One  only  death  a  man  needs 
to  fear :  the  death  he  breeds  himself  when  his  hope 
fails  him.  Men  hawk  at  power  as  falcons  at  the 
heron;  and  those  who  win  it  and  do  not  abuse  it 
are  still  the  salt  of  the  earth.  Remember  that,  my 
learned  history-writer,  if  you,  in  your  turn,  would 
offer  clean  material  for  future  pens." 

"You  preach  better  than  you  have  practised," 
answered  Psellus,  "you,  who  would  patch  and  patch 
again  with  peace  for  ever — a  coward  peace,  won  at 
a  coward  price." 

"We  must  be  just,"  answered  Nicephorus  im- 
personally, as  though  he  defended  another  than 
himself.  "When  enemies  are  battering  at  the  gate, 
Michael,  be  advised  and  parley  with  them — if  you 
lack  power  to  hold  the  gate." 

"But  was  it  well  to  kiss  the  infidel's  robe,  when 
Christ's  good  sword  should  find  his  heart?" 

Nicephorus  smiled  again  gently. 


34  EUDOCIA 

"The  sword  of  Christ  needs  sharpening,  Patri- 
arch," he  answered.  "We  lack  the  means,  though 
not  the  wit  to  find  the  means,  to  make  it  flash 
again.  Our  cocks  shall  yet  crow  a  glad  new 
morning  and  the  Empire  waken  to  sleep  no  more." 

"Yea,  wake  to  live,"  added  the  Caesar ;  "for  now 
it  fears  to  wake,  lest  it  should  wake  to  die." 

Psellus  became  personal  again. 

"You  are  lost,"  he  said ;  "because  you  thought  to 
bar  the  sun  from  rising,  idly  wasted  our  priceless 
opportunities  and  dallied  with  base  intrigue,  while 
strangers  rent  the  Empire." 

Nicephorus  shook  his  head. 

"Mend  the  indictment  before  Eudocia  hears  it," 
he  answered.  "  'Strangers?'  No.  Ourselves,  not 
strangers,  are  crumbling  the  Empire  like  rotten 
bread.  These  things  have  happened  from  within. 
You  stand,  as  you  aver,  for  the  patricians ;  but  cast 
back  your  thoughts,  for  he  who  writes  history 
should  think  historically,  too.  Who  stole  the  crown 
from  Stratioticus,  and  left  in  the  lurch  our  old 
Sixth  Michael  for  the  first  Isaac?" 

"That  was  to  the  good,"  interposed  Xiphilin. 
"Patrician  power  had  nearly  perished,  deserted  by 
a  State  that  our  God  struck  blind  for  passing  sins. 


THE  PALACE  35 

But  now  again  patrician  strength  is  waxing,  to  the 
country's  salvation:  the  Church  stands  for  it." 

"Did  Christ?"  asked  Nicephorus. 

"He  willed  that  Caesar  received  what  rightly  was 
Caesar's  to  administer  and  control.  Why  do  you 
still  covertly  gibe  at  the  Fountain  of  Justice,  old 
man — at  the  Service  you  yourself  may  soon  be 
called  to  enter?" 

Nicephorus  bowed  his  head. 

"Hath  Eudocia  already  willed  the  cord  and  cowl 
for  me?"  he  asked. 

"Her  imperial  mercy  inclines  that  way,"  an- 
swered John  Ducas. 

"Only  if  you  desire  it,  Nicephorus.  You  can 
'leave  the  cabin  if  the  chimney  smokes,'  "  murmured 
Psellus. 

The  elder  smiled. 

"A  hit,  Michael,"  he  said,  and  then  the  Caesar 
challenged  him. 

"Hear  me — you  who  were  my  brother's  best- 
loved  servant.  Since  Fate  decrees  that  the  burden 
must  fall  into  other  hands  from  this  day, 
Nicephorus,  I  bid  you  think  upon  your  legacy  for 
those  called  to  the  dangers  and  difficulties  ahead. 
The  future's  dark — we  know  it.     The  Turks  are 


36  EUDOCIA 

triumphing  from  Persia  to  the  Hellespont ;  Danube 
pours  out  her  hordes,  like  gnats  from  a  marsh  at 
evening,  and  new,  strange,  savage  foes  are  on  the 
frontiers,  sprung  out  of  the  womb  of  darkness." 

The  fallen  minister  turned  and  sat  himself  in  one 
of  the  chairs  set  for  the  approaching  trial.  For  a 
moment  he  was  silent,  with  his  eyes  staring  into  the 
past ;  then  he  made  answer. 

"Willingly  I  speak,  and  pray  that  Caesar  will 
hear  as  willingly.  Let  us  ascend  for  a  bird's-eye 
view. 

"We  bless  the  Isaurian  princes,  who  laid  the  deep 
foundations  of  our  realm  in  a  manner  worthy  of  all 
admiration ;  and  we  ban  the  Basilian  dynasty,  that 
went  far  to  undermine  the  good  work  of  the  past. 
Now  we  are  called  to  restore  again  those  old  founda- 
tions as  best  we  may,  or  down  the  fabric  quickly 
comes.  We  are  confronted  with  a  mountain  of  toil- 
some, patient,  unseen  work — laborious,  ungrateful, 
hidden  from  the  popular  eye  and  understanding. 
Such  achievement  wins  no  breath  of  praise  from 
this  generation.  There's  none,  my  friends,  who 
will  proclaim  your  pains — it  is  no  work  for  dema- 
gogues; and  the  Factions — 'Blue*  and  'Green'  alike 
— will  only  spit  upon  your  self-sacrifice.  You  must 
go  to  work  like  moles  in  the  dark,  be  content  if 


THE  PALACE  37 

historians  unborn  applaud  your  honourable  in- 
dustry and  trust  your  fame  to  them. 

"You  will  wiseliest  begin  with  the  Court  itself. 
To-day  we  see  courtiers  struggling  for  the  states- 
man's seat — a  sign  of  utmost  danger — and  eunuchs 
are  squeaking  in  every  lofty  place,  till  the  few  men 
remaining  stare  up  in  wonder,  to  know  how  the 
creatures  climbed  there." 

Psellus  interrupted. 

"For  that  cause — to  purify  a  foetid  Court — we 
seek  the  restoration  of  our  order,  Mcephorus.  We 
do  not  need  direction  upon  the  road  we  already  go. 
Patricians  long  have  stood  aloof,  to  escape  the 
stench,  but  now  our  duty  to  the  Empire  and  the 
Throne  demands  that  we  remind  the  world  of  our 
existence.  You,  too,  were  born  noble;  but  it  was 
you — not  we — who  courted  the  popular  voice." 

"I  seek  the  people?"  asked  the  old  man,  sur- 
prised into  bland  wonder.    "That's  news  indeed!" 

"All  are  tempted  to  do  so,"  declared  John  Ducas ; 
"and  thus  the  internal  danger  has  grown  out  of 
self-seeking  among  the  great.  We  combine  to  spoil 
the  multitude  and  make  them  supine,  feeble  as  a 
child  bored  with  too  many  toys.  We  win  their 
voice  by  thinking  of  the  hippodrome,  not  where  the 
lonely  outposts  of  our  kingdom  grow  weak  and 


38  ETJDOCIA 

neglected  for  lack  of  means.  Nicephorus  is  right : 
pageants  buy  our  popularity,  and  the  people  only 
demand  that  money  should  be  spent  to  make  their 
pleasure,  for  pleasure  is  more  to  them  than  safety. 
Shows  they  understand;  but  stint  that  we  may 
build  another  aqueduct,  or  break  far  distant  roads 
for  the  feet  of  the  legions — what  care  they  then?" 

"And  what  does  Eudocia  care?"  struck  in  Psellus 
boldly.  "Not  the  least  charge  against  you, 
Nicephorus,  is  this:  that  you  have  always  been 
content  to  please  the  woman  rather  than  instruct 
the  Queen  in  queenship." 

"That  should  have  been  your  work,  my  persistent 
gad-fly,"  answered  Nicephorus. 

"Yet  Psellus  is  in  the  right,"  urged  Xiphilin, 
well  content  to  broach  the  vital  subject  lying  behind 
the  fall  of  the  minister.  "The  life  of  the  Empress' 
must  lie  bound  up  only  in  the  State — for  that  alone 
to  have  her  being  and  draw  her  daily  breath." 

"You  lack  human  nature,  my  good  Patriarch," 
answered  Nicephorus,  again  smiling.  "There  have, 
I  grant,  been  kings  that  were  something  more  than 
men ;  but  no  empress  was  ever  more  than  a  woman. 
They're  made  of  precious  earth;  but  clay  is  clay, 
though  moulded  into  royalty.  The  hopes  and  fears 
and  ambitions  and  dreams — the  plagues  and  pangs 


THE  PALACE  39 

and  petty  griefs  that  prick  the  least  and  greatest — 
these  do  not  fly  away  because  the  creature  wears  a 
crown." 

"The  Empress,"  answered  Xiphilin,  "should  for- 
get that  she  is  a  woman,  even  as  rare  emperors  have 
learned  to  forget  that  they  were  men.  I  speak  in  a 
spiritual  sense." 

"  'Forget  that  she's  a  woman?'  When  Eros  and 
Athene  forget  it — not  sooner." 

"Dead,  heathen  gods  should  be  on  no  tongue  that 
addresses  me,  Mcephorus." 

"Why  not,  Patriarch?  Why  scorn  the  gods  our 
great  forefathers  knelt  to?  They  at  least  blazed 
out  a  way  to  victory.  But  now,  at  sound  of  foe,  we 
fly  to  Church  and  dip  our  heads  deep  under  her  holy 
walls,  like  ostriches  in  the  sand.  The  world  that 
you  and  I  call  'heathen'  laughs  at  us." 

Xiphilin's  eyes  flashed  in  anger. 

"For  that  you'd  die  at  Rome,"  he  said. 

"We  are  surveying  the  present  situation;  there- 
fore, let  us  think  on  all  you  stand  for,  Patriarch," 
continued  Mcephorus.  "The  spirit  of  Religion,  I 
submit,  lacks  something,  too.  Correct  me  if  I  err, 
when  I  assert  that  it  has  sunk  to  show  and  cere- 
monial, unconsciously  influenced  by  those  for  whom 
it  caters,  as  we  all  are.     We  nurse  the  martyr's 


40  EUDOCIA 

bones  in  our  bosoms  until  they  turn  our  hearts 
cold ;  and  our  prayers  are  purgative,  not  tonic ;  they 
emasculate,  but  do  not  fortify.  Our  festivals  in- 
crease to  folly  and  our  time  is  spent  in  worshipping 
dead  saints,  rather  than  serving  a  live  monarch." 

"There's  truth  in  that,"  declared  the  Caesar ;  "but 
our  pretentious  religion  has  vast  compensations. 
Remember  the  suppliants  who  daily  fly  to  our 
Christian  arms;  consider  how  Armenia,  Scythia, 
send  to  us  their  mightiest.  Nor  do  they  come 
empty-handed  for  support.  The  fugitive  wealth  of 
Alexandria,  Tyre,  Sidon,  fills  the  Golden  Horn, 
knowing  our  Christian  banners  spell  security  as 
well  as  sanctity." 

"Thus  the  Church  is  doing  what  the  State  should 
do — and  cannot,"  summed  the  Patriarch. 

"Has  Mother  Church  then  gone  into  trade?" 
asked  Nicephorus  mildly.  "Do  you,  unashamed, 
seek  the  sovereign  power  and  embrace  the  sover- 
eign's commerce?" 

"Only  that  ruler  will  be  served  whose  power  is 
sovereign,"  answered  Psellus,  and  Nicephorus, 
alive  to  the  implication,  rose  from  his  chair  and 
turned  upon  him. 

"In  this  land,"  he  said,  "the  measure  of  our 
reigning  prince  has  ever  been  the  measure  of  public 


THE  PALACE  41 

happiness.  Our  freedom  is  a  reflection  of  the  mon- 
arch's freedom,  who  is  now  a  woman  and  a  rare 
one.  Were  she  free,  the  nation  would  know  a  large 
measure  of  content;  but  free  she  is  not,  and  you 
priests  and  counsellors,  who  would  cringe  to  a  man, 
pardon  his  guilt  and  applaud  his  whims,  conspire 
to  bully  this  lonely  woman  in  the  purple.  You  little 
know  her  virtues,  or  her  promise.  She  is  endowed 
with  all  that  best  becomes  a  mortal  throne — all  save 
a  bodyguard  of  faithful  spirits  to  guide  her  steps." 

"Her  soul  is  royal  if  ever  soul  was  royal,"  an- 
swered John  Ducas ;  "but  her  mind  inclines  to  paths 
of  peace  and  her  heart  knows  its  own  emptiness. 
The  throne  can  never  satisfy  her  inward  genius." 

"Enough!  Enough!"  answered  Mcephorus.  "I 
know  all  that  you  would  say — all  that  Church  and 
State  have  taught  you,  Caesar.  So  her  light  is  to 
be  quenched  for  ever,  and  our  Eastern  throne  loses 
a  ruler,  who,  had  she  been  served  as  she  deserved, 
had  written  many  a  nobler  page  in  time  than  will 
John  Ducas.  Why  look  astonished,  friends?  Am 
I  not  right?  Noble  Caesar  here  will  soon  doff  his 
green  buskins  for  the  red,  wear  a  shut  diadem  for 
his  open  crown,  and  dip  an  imperial  pen  in  purple 
ink." 

"Who  heeds  a  meaner  colour?"  asked  Psellus. 


42  EUDOCIA 

"And  you,"  continued  Nicephorus,  "you  take  my 
empty  place,  Michael.  Does  Caesar  grasp  the 
sceptre  willingly?  Has  he  scanned  the  doubtful 
countenance  of  duty  and  remembered  the  lesser 
passions  prone  to  masquerade  in  that  name?  Has 
he  even  condescended  to  think  upon  the  peril? 
Still  she's  a  well  loved  queen.  Is  it  highest  wisdom 
to  reckon  thus  without  her?" 

He  was  not  answered,  for  the  blare  of  loud  trum- 
pets from  within  the  palace  ended  their  conversa- 
tion and  the  Court  approached. 

§  4 

The  silver  doors  behind  the  throne  were  opened, 
and  at  the  same  moment  there  entered  from  the 
gardens,  Bardas  with  Zonaras,  Philagrius,  a  full 
guard  of  the  Varangian  troops  and  Romanus 
Diogenes. 

"The  other  villain!"  said  Mcephorus.  "Hail, 
soldier !" 

Romanus  saluted  the  Caesar,  did  reverence  to 
Xiphilin  and  turned  to  the  statesman.  The  Gover- 
nor of  Thrace  was  at  that  time  in  the  fulness  of  his 
strength  and  fame.  He  possessed  the  sort  of  beauty 
Greece  had  worshipped  and  made  immortal  in  the 


THE  PALACE  43 

Golden  Age.  Taller  than  he  appeared,  by  reason  of 
his  exact  proportions,  he  stood  somewhat  above  six 
feet  high.  He  was  dark,  with  curly  hair  and  a  face 
masculine  and  stern,  yet  so  perfect  in  every  feature 
that  power  mated  beauty  and  neither  lessened  the 
other.  He  lacked,  however,  the  passionless  serenity 
of  the  old  ideal.  He  walked  with  the  free  stride  of 
unhindered  limbs  that  had  seldom  known  the  gar- 
ments of  state,  and  though  he  gazed  upon  the  judg- 
ment seat  without  fear,  he  was  anxious  and  sorely 
troubled.  Tremendous  disaster  had  fallen  upon 
him,  and  the  issue  depended  upon  the  slender 
thread  of  the  royal  will.  He  believed  that  death 
awaited  him,  and  his  highest  hope  was  only  that  a 
kindly  fate  might  permit  him  to  choose  death  where 
he  best  desired  to  meet  it. 

"You,  too,  arraigned?"  he  asked.  "Our  Con- 
stantine  for  ever  leaned  upon  your  shoulder, 
Nicephorus." 

"He's  dead,"  answered  the  old  man;  then  two 
trumpeters  entered  the  silver  doors,  stood  one  on 
either  side,  lifted  their  tubes  and  blew.  To  the 
clarion  there  came  first  minor  officials  bedizened  in 
silk  and  gold,  while  senators  and  courtiers  to  the 
number  of  a  hundred  followed.  Magnificent  was 
the  pomp,  stupendous  the  wealth  and  decoration, 


U  EUDOCIA 

exhausting  the  opulence  of  precious  metals,  rare 
gems  and  primary  colours  displayed  by  that  gather- 
ing; for  no  such  aulic  splendour  as  lighted  the 
Throne  of  the  East  has  been  recorded  in  the  history 
of  mankind. 

Many  women  followed  the  senators,  and  while 
great  officers  took  the  seats  prepared  for  them,  the 
women  grouped  upon  the  right  hand  of  the  throne. 
There,  among  others,  stood  Irene  Ducas,  aunt  of 
the  Empress ;  Theodora,  her  first  favourite  and  tire- 
woman ;  Maria,  descended  from  a  vanished  dynasty ; 
Euphrosyne  and  Gregoria,  young  girls  of  the  family 
of  Mcephorus.  Irene  was  a  widow  of  a  free  tongue 
— grey-haired,  peppery — who  adored  Eudocia  with 
passionate  fervour;  Theodora — a  child  companion 
of  Eudocia — had  been  translated  from  obscurity 
when  Constantine  took  his  young  bride.  She  loved 
her  royal  playmate  dearly,  but  with  divided  devo- 
tion now,  for  Theodora  was  betrothed  to  Bardas, 
and  knew  that  the  Empress  did  not  approve  the 
match. 

A  single  herald  followed  the  main  assemblage 
and  stood,  like  a  pillar  of  burnished  gold,  between 
the  silver  doors.  In  a  voice  loud  and  sonorous  he 
cried: 


THE  PALACE  45 

"Eudocia  Augusta !  Eudocia  Augusta !  Eudocia 
Augusta !" 

Then  he  moved  aside,  the  trumpets  screamed 
again  and  unseen  music  thundered. 

The  Empress  entered  alone.  Other  queens  had 
been  almost  hidden  by  the  amazing  robes  and  re- 
galia of  the  monarch.  They  had  peeped  like  dolls 
from  these  gorgeous  habiliments  and  trembled 
beneath  their  weight.  Not  so  the  widow  of  Con- 
stantine.  She  was  tall  and  strong,  and  supported 
her  glittering,  gem-encrusted  garments  as  easily  as 
she  held  the  great  orb  and  sceptre  in  either  hand. 
Her  face  was  rich  in  its  complexion  and  her  lovely 
neck  supported  the  huge  diadem  without  being  bent 
by  it.  The  erection  towering  above  her  brow  imi- 
tated the  fashion  of  the  Persian  kings.  Its  silken 
pyramid  was  covered  with  precious  stones  and 
blazed  as  though  on  fire.  The  crown  was  formed 
by  a  golden  and  jewelled  circlet  from  which  rose 
arches  of  gold  to  their  intersection,  where  stood 
a  globe  and  cross;  while  the  cheek  pieces  fell  in 
lappets  heavy  with  great  pearls. 

But  the  woman  was  not  hidden  under  her  fine 
feathers.  She  owned  no  classic  beauty,  yet  her 
dark   eyes,   straight   eyebrows   and   large  finely- 


46  EUDOCIA 

turned  mouth  were  of  that  order  that  makes  decora- 
tion vain  and  dwarfs  physical  perfection  by  the 
greater  distinction  of  character.  The  power  to  feel 
and  the  brain  to  think  alike  appeared  in  her  fea- 
tures— impassive  now  under  the  mask  of  state  they 
wore.  She  was  proud  and  moved  proudly.  She 
swept  with  leisured  stateliness  to  her  throne  and 
spoke  to  Irene  as  she  did  so.  The  old  woman 
loosened  a  bracelet  on  the  left  wrist  of  the  Empress. 

A  troop  of  the  household  guard  came  after  her  in 
shining  armour,  and  the  silver  doors  were  shut 
again.  Adoration  of  the  Monarch  followed — an 
absolute  and  servile  obeisance  that  sent  the  assem- 
bly grovelling  upon  the  marble  floors,  so  that  the 
Court  suddenly  resembled  a  gigantic  flower-bed 
flung  under  the  radiance  poured  from  the  dome 
above.  As  the  trumpets  again  sounded,  every  man 
from  the  greatest  to  the  least  sank  prostrate,  while 
the  women  fell  upon  their  knees.  Eudocia  and  the 
soldiers  alone  stood,  and  she  looked  without  emo- 
tion over  the  recumbent  and  abject  multitude. 
Then,  as  she  sat  upon  her  throne,  Theodora  ordered 
her  robe,  the  trumpets  brayed  for  the  last  time,  the 
hidden  music  ceased  and  the  people  rose  to  their 
feet. 

There  followed  a  stir  and  movement,  while  a 


THE  PALACE  47 

cumbrous  ritual  was  observed  to  the  last  small  de- 
tail and  a  thousand  petty  trifles  accomplished. 
During  these  moments  the  palace  troops,  in  their 
burnished  brass  and  steel,  gazed  with  curiosity  at 
the  Varangians,  toil-worn  from  their  march,  but 
taller  by  a  span  than  themselves.  Then  they  cen- 
tred their  admiration  upon  the  famous  figure  of 
Romanus  Diogenes. 

All  was  fulfilled  at  last  and  a  great  silence  fol- 
lowed. Thereupon  the  Caesar  walked  out  into  the 
open  place  before  the  throne.  To  his  right  were 
grouped  the  Patriarch  under  his  golden  symbol, 
Michael  Psellus  and  Mcephorus;  upon  the  left 
stood  the  mercenaries  and  their  centurion  with 
Zonaras,  Philagrius,  and  the  Governor  of  Thrace. 
Bardas  had  taken  the  Protostrator's  station. 

"Welcome,  my  brother,"  said  Eudocia,  in  a  voice 
of  soprano  note,  mellow  and  clear. 

"Hail,  Majesty,"  replied  John  Ducas.  "Now, 
for  our  grief,  two  malefactors  are  come  to  know 
your  will.  And  first  be  pleased  to  hear  your  minis- 
ter, Nicephorus.  Then  must  you  try  this  Cappa- 
docian,  your  Governor  of  Thrace,  Romanus  Di- 
ogenes, who  in  recent  years  hath  done  great  service, 
but  now  falls  under  high  treason  proved  against 
him." 


48  EUDOCIA 

"Proved?"  she  asked.  Her  eyes  had  rested  for  a 
moment  on  the  soldier,  while  a  light  of  memory  that 
none  saw  flashed  for  a  moment  in  them  and  went 
out. 

"The  witnesses  that  heard  him  speak  are  pres- 
ent," answered  Caesar. 

Mcephorus  spoke. 

"Think,  Majesty,  and  think  again  before  from 
these  great  shoulders,  you  fling  down  the  valiant 
head  that  crowns  them,"  he  said  in  his  gentle  tones ; 
while  with  lowered  voice  Eudocia  answered. 

"Alas,  Mcephorus,  your  good  word  no  longer 
betters  the  fame  of  any  man." 

"Be  it  so ;  but  remember  that  the  armies  from  the 
North,  now  come  to  Constantinople  with  this  gen- 
eral, hold  him  next  to  yourself  and  your  son  in 
their  stormy  bosoms." 

"It  is  the  truth,  Majesty,"  spoke  out  resolute 
Zonaras  in  his  harsh  fashion.  "Komanus  is  their 
God." 

The  Empress  gazed  upon  him  and  her  dark  eye- 
brows seemed  to  join  for  a  moment. 

"A  man  their  God?"  she  asked.  "Barbarians  we 
knew  they  were — these  great,  tawny  men;  but  are 
they  turned  heathen  too?  It  is  time  you  loosed 
your  monks  upon  them,  Patriarch." 


THE  PALACE  49 

None  replied  and  she  spoke  again. 

"Mcephorus,  stand  you  here.  Let  Michael 
Psellus  speak." 

The  white-robed  minister  and  the  historian 
walked  out  before  the  throne  and  John  Ducas 
joined  Xiphilin. 

Psellus  was  no  great  orator,  but  the  magnitude 
of  his  matter  filled  his  mouth  to-day;  though  his 
manner  had  ever  been  bookish  and  artificial. 

"The  charge  we  bring  against  your  first  minister 
is  this,  Majesty.  That  over-long  he  has  ignored 
the  Empire's  need  and  dark  fortune.  His  policy  is 
ever  to  delay  action  by  evasive  shift,  and  suck  from 
every  new  problem  a  way  to  burk  another.  Each 
fresh  disaster  serves  him  as  an  excuse  to  ignore  the 
last,  and  he  thinks  not  synthetically  but  in  pieces. 
He  confounds  himself,  and  his  thoughts  do  not  come 
together.  There  is  no  continuity  of  design,  but  a 
policy  of  expedients  hatched  from  day  to  day  and 
hour  to  hour.  He  clings  to  worn-out  usage,  and 
shrinks  in  fear  from  each  new-born  ill,  because  the 
old  medicine  will  not  serve  and  the  new  surgery  is 
beyond  his  strength  to  apply.  The  only  good  before 
his  fading  eyes  is  present  peace — peace  at  all  cost 
of  honour — peace  at  the  price  of  death.  But  death 
should  be  the  price  of  victory,  and  peace,  before 


50  EUDOCIA 

victory  comes,  is  one  more  nail  driven  into  the  coffin 
of  the  Empire.  Leave  the  power  longer  with  him, 
and  soon,  upon  the  horns  of  the  Crescent  tossed  and 
gored,  we  must  fall,  as  one  a  bull  has  caught ;  for 
he'll  delay  till  Alp  Arslan  is  thundering  at  the 
Golden  Gate ;  and  even  now,  so  fatally  hath  he  in- 
trigued with  our  first  enemy,  that  genius  shall 
scarce  avail  us  to  salve  this  most  deadly  wound. 
'Too  late'  will  be  our  cry  too  soon,  if  this  man 
holds  longer  his  false  and  feeble  way.  And  since 
the  definite  word  must  be  spoken,  we  blame  him 
now  for  treating  privily  among  our  foes  and  send- 
ing to  Alp  Arslan's  self  messengers  to  stave  off  the 
infidel  under  a  secret  treaty.  Prove  that,  as  we 
can,  and  it  needs  neither  voice  of  mine,  nor  an- 
other's, to  show  that  Mcephorus  is  all  that  I  charge 
against  him  and  deserves  a  fate  as  dark  as  any  trai- 
tor ever  won." 

"Let  the  Patriarch  speak,"  said  Eudocia,  who 
had  listened  to  Psellus  without  revealing  her 
thoughts. 

Then  Xiphilin  approached  the  steps  of  the 
throne.  His  noble  voice  rang  to  the  roof  with  per- 
fect rhythm  and  modulation;  yet  for  all  the  art 
of  the  priest  and  his  measured  oratory,  enthusiasm 
he  never  inspired.    His  light  was  bright,  his  words 


THE  PALACE  51 

perfectly  chosen  at  all  times ;  but  there  lacked  heat 
from  them,  since  none  who  in  secret  sets  self  first, 
is  gifted  with  the  fire  that  wakens  answering  fire. 
Art  cannot  emulate  the  conviction  that  a  selfless 
honesty  inspires. 

"Thus,  Majesty,  I  declare,"  began  Xiphilin. 
"The  Spirit  of  the  Church  is  charity,  and  in  the 
name  of  our  Master,  I  would  extenuate  this  awful 
charge  from  wickedness  to  human  weakness.  Let 
the  past  colour  justice  with  the  gentle  ray  of  mercy, 
Eudocia  Augusta.  Mcephorus  has  moved  far  down 
the  vale  of  years  and  his  judgment  totters.  Within 
this  hour  he  spoke  jestingly  of  holy  things  and, 
even  to  me,  could  name  the  names  of  dead  deities. 
Therefore  I  perceived  that  Almighty  God  had  al- 
ready thrust  a  finger  into  your  minister's  subtle 
brain  and  broken  up  the  gear.  A  great  machine, 
that  falls  from  its  perfection,  may  make  deadly 
havoc  for  those  who  would  still  trust  it ;  but  a  mind 
outworn  is  not  an  engine  we  can  mend  again.  The 
time  has  therefore  come  when  Mcephorus  should 
cease  his  activities,  ere  ills  are  done  beyond  our 
sounder  wits  to  cure.  He  must  depart,  and  the 
manner  of  his  going  lies  in  your  decision.  I  speak 
not  to  palliate  his  crime,  save  in  the  spirit  for  which 
I  stand;  for  treason  such  as  his,  unless  my  words 


52  EUDOCIA 

have  weight,  can  only  be  paid  with  the  supreme 
penalty  of  death." 

Eudocia  raised  her  hand  that  held  the  sceptre 
and  Xiphilin  ceased. 

"Nicephorus,"  she  said. 

The  Patriarch  fell  back  and  Nicephorus  spoke, 
in  no  set  phrase,  but  languidly,  as  though  the  mat- 
ter were  of  little  account. 

"Your  Empire,  Majesty,  is  to-day  a  lion  that 
hath  slain  a  stag,  but  cannot  hold  his  game  against 
the  other  beasts  that  wait  upon  his  hunting." 

Eudocia  accepted  the  challenge. 

"Nay,  our  simile  is  worthier  and  has  been  praised 
by  yourself  ere  now,"  she  answered.  "Our  Empire 
is  the  link  between  the  Eastern  and  the  Western 
humanity — a  jewel,  that  lies  between  the  breasts  of 
the  great  world,  to  hold  the  robe  that  clothes  them." 

"A  Christian  fortress  rather,"  interposed  the 
Patriarch.  "Call  it  the  barrier  against  Islam,  lifted 
to  cry  halt  to  unfaith  and  raise  the  blessed  Cross 
as  high  above  the  Crescent,  as  a  steadfast  star  above 
the  young  moon." 

"And  more  than  that,"  declared  Eudocia,  bend- 
ing forward.  "We'll  conquer  first  the  huge  body 
of  all  unfaith,  then  lead  the  infidel  to  the  eternal 
fold." 


THE  PALACE  53 

"Meantime  the  star  sinks  and  the  young  moon 
grows,"  declared  Mcephorus.  "This,  indeed,  is  no 
day  for  metaphors.  Psellus  has  told  you  that  I 
am  prone  to  wait  upon  the  event,  but  that  is  false. 
My  purpose  is  ever  to  anticipate,  because  I  know 
that  God  on  high  is  mostly  minded  to  help  the 
strongest,  and  in  His  wisdom  permits  might  the 
foremost  voice  in  all  human  affairs.  But  while  the 
lion's  strength  is  over-clouded,  as  now  it  is,  he  must 
call  to  him  the  serpent,  that  her  tongue  may  serve 
to  charm  the  enemy  and  arrest  his  hand  until  the 
lion  has  breathed  again.  Then  shall  you  find  that 
God  helps  the  wisest  also.  We  are  sick,  Majesty, 
and  neither  East  nor  West  spares  a  physician  for 
us,  since  neither  cares  how  soon  we  perish." 

"Is  not  that  treason?"  asked  Eudocia,  but  with 
interest  rather  than  anger. 

"Only  biting  truth,"  answered  the  old  man. 
"Not  Rome  would  own  us  Romans;  not  Greece 
would  claim  us  Greeks.  We  are  become  no  more 
than  the  aliens  of  the  East,  who  have  renounced 
not  alone  the  garb  and  quality,  but  the  very  speech 
and  spirit  whence  we  sprang." 

The  man  of  letters  spoke  fiercely. 

"Leave  Latin  to  the  Latins,"  he  said,  " to 

the  Latins  and  the  Franks,  for  they  are  one.    The 


54  EUDOCIA 

golden  tongue  of  Greece  is  sweeter  far  and  apter 
for  our  philosophy." 

Nicephorus  smiled  and  followed  the  issue. 

"And  where  homes  philosophy  on  the  Bosporus, 
Michael?"  he  inquired.  "What  tongue  makes  great 
a  feeble  thought?  That  giant's  trumpet  needs  a 
man  well-ribbed  and  stout  of  lungs  to  wake  its  deep- 
toned  music.  It  was  forged  of  primal  thunder  and 
the  murmur  of  the  wide-wayed  sea;  it  was  built 
to  hold  the  voice  of  the  myriad  of  men,  the  mourn- 
ing and  the  triumph  of  hosts,  the  crash  of  war,  the 
song  of  victory,  the  lamentation  of  the  fallen.  And 
it  has  uttered  for  all  time  the  highest  wisdom,  the 
noblest  poetry  that  this  earth  ever  heard  since 
chaos.  And  now  that  organ,  fit  for  the  song  of  the 
stars — what  present  purpose  does  it  serve?  Our 
poetasters  string  their  tinkling  epigrams  upon  it 
and  their  doubtful  jests  and  city  verses — as  though 
one  tamed  an  elephant  to  dance,  for  fools  to  laugh 
at.  Greek  became  Plato's  thought,  not  your  his- 
tory, Michael.  It  was  that  master's  high  ideal  to 
dream  philosopher  and  statesman  in  one.  But 
birds  of  such  feather  have  been  rare,  and  much  I 
doubt  that  you  will  ever  spread  a  wing  to  fly  with 
them." 


THE  PALACE  55 

Laughter  followed,  for  culture  still  hid  at  Court. 
Eudocia  smiled  that  this  rare  ray  should  thus  have 
pierced  the  solemnity  of  the  moment;  and  she 
smiled  the  more  to  see  Michael  Psellus  scowl.  But 
she  forbade  his  answer  and  spoke  what  was  in  her 
mind. 

In  leisurely  and  desultory  fashion  were  even  the 
great  Courts  held,  and  even  such  a  vital  matter  as 
the  present  might  remain  a  long  while  retired  be- 
fore it  was  attained. 

"Two  Empires  we  would  rule,"  she  said.  "The 
Empire  of  the  East,  and  that  mightier,  boundless 
realm  which  men  have  called  the  Empire  of  the 
Mind.  For  the  one  we  wield  our  adamant,  Roman 
justice;  for  the  other,  the  everlasting  wisdom  of 
Greece." 

The  Patriarch  took  a  higher  view. 

"Both  must  lie  vassal  and  slave  to  what's  above 
them  both,  Majesty,"  said  he.  "The  earth  we  rule 
and  that  uncertain  land  where  uncertain  reason 
reigns — these  sink  to  nothingness  and  bend  sup- 
pliant heads  before  the  Lamp  of  Revelation  burn- 
ing above  the  Throne  of  the  Soul's  Empire." 

Then  a  strange  voice,  fearless  and  deep,  fell  upon 
their  ears.  A  man — Romanus  Diogenes — addressed 


56  EUDOCIA 

Eudocia  and  every  eye  was  bent  upon  him.  He 
spoke  as  though  the  mountain  winds  he  breathed 
still  echoed  within  his  great  breast. 

"Majesty,"  he  said,  "I  pray  you  listen  to  a 
tongue  that  must  soon  be  stilled,  and  give  heed  to 
reality,  if  indeed  reality  be  possible  within  the 
walls  of  a  palace.  I  choke  in  this  drizzle  of  words, 
and  I  tell  you  that  until  man  is  something  more 
than  man,  his  sword  remains  the  only  arbiter.  We 
buy  the  sword — we,  who  should  possess  it  as  a  part 
of  our  inheritance.  The  spirit  that  should  enter 
every  new-born  child  with  its  first  breath  is  dead, 
and  our  countless  gold  pours  out  to  the  Sclav,  the 
Bulgar  and  any  men  who  still  know  how  to  do 
man's  work.  Not  love  and  honour  guard  the  Em- 
pire, but  minted  metal  and  piled  stones.  Even  the 
ships  that  protect  our  trade  are  not  our  own;  our 
admirals  live  in  palaces  ashore  and  hirelings  pull 
our  triremes  and  fight  the  pirates.  We  wear  silk 
rather  than  steel;  we  have  felt  neither  Scythian 
arrow,  nor  Arabian  spear.  'A  cold  hand  and  a 
talkative  voice' — that  is  the  name  we  have  achieved 
among  the  nations,  and  our  religion — what  does 
that  teach  us?  To  conquer?  No.  To  prosper? 
No.     To  fortify  our  sublime  inheritance  and  win 


THE  PALACE  57 

back  glory  by  the  way  of  discipline?  No.  What, 
then — to  whine  and  yield?    Yes. 

"With  gelded  temper  we  trust  to  our  knees, 
rather  than  our  arms,  hoping  that  the  God  of  Bat- 
tles will  help  men  for  ever  on  their  marrowbones. 
But  what  deity  draws  his  bow  for  such  a  cowardice 
of  curs  as  run  your  streets?  Mesopotamia  and 
Cilicia  swarm  with  Seljouk  Turks;  Syria  they  de- 
vour like  locusts;  in  Csesaria  our  fellow  country- 
men are  slain  as  sheep.  St.  Basil's  sacred  fane 
has  been  plundered  of  that  wilderness  of  wealth  a 
thousand  votaries  brought;  and  not  the  prayers  of 
priests  nor  the  tears  of  nuns  could  save  a  groat. 
For  our  honour,  then,  gird  up  your  loins,  and  wake 
the  nation  from  its  dreams.  Tell  your  people  where 
they  stand,  and  let  them  feel  for  once  the  raw  air 
of  truth  upon  their  tender  skins." 

Eudocia  regarded  Romanus  intently  during  this 
impetuous  speech.  She  followed  every  fiery  word 
and  flushed  when  he  poured  scorn  upon  her 
subjects. 

"Yet  war  must  be  a  losing  war  and  bring  us  grief 
that  well  may  be  escaped,"  said  Nicephorus,  and 
the  soldier  admitted  it. 

"To-day  that's  true;  but  we  may  still  keep  the 


58  EUDOCIA 

field  and  threaten  greater  than  we  can  perform," 
he  answered.  "Parthian  tactics  should  be  practised 
while,  unseen,  we  lick  our  wounds  and  build  our 
broken  legions.  I  indict  your  past  neglects,  Con- 
stantinople. The  armies  are  starved  in  Thrace  and 
on  the  frontiers,  far  and  near." 

"Nay,  nay,  Romanus  Diogenes.  You're  here  for 
judgment,  not  to  judge,"  protested  the  Caesar. 
"Let  us  listen  again  to  Mcephorus." 

"I  see  the  State  like  a  dying  camp-fire  in  a  savage 
field,"  answered  the  old  man.  "A  fire  whose  flames 
serve  awhile  to  show  the  eyes  ringed  round  of 
watchful,  fatal  things  that  only  wait  to  spring. 
Nor  shall  the  dawn  scatter  them,  for  they  are  not 
the  foes  that  Diogenes  Romanus  would  destroy; 
they  lurk  within  our  walls;  they  harbour  here." 

Some  emotion  marked  this  statement.  Senato- 
rial heads  bent  together;  suspicion  and  distrust 
exchanged  glances.  Angry  eyes  were  flashed  upon 
the  fallen  statesman. 

"See  them  stir!"  he  continued.  "Like  beetles 
when  we  lift  the  stone  that  hides  their  secret  bur- 
rows. They,  who  would  tear  from  the  brow  of 
Majesty  the  Eastern  crown,  are  even  those  who 
fling  themselves  for  her  to  walk  upon." 

An  undertone  of  angry  voices  hummed  through 
the  multitude.    Those  that  doubted,  were  tempted 


THE  PALACE  59 

to   believe    the   old    man;    they   who   knew    that 
Nicephorus  spoke  the  truth,  denied  it  noisily. 

"This  may  be  as  you  declare,"  answered  the 
Empress.  "All  thrones  are  built  on  trust,  and  we 
who  sit  upon  them  are  called  to  trust — not  always 
willingly.  At  least  we  trusted  you.  Oh,  Nice- 
phorus, in  this  hour  that's  darkling  over  your  dis- 
honoured head,  we  ask  you  but  one  question,  which 
sums  all  that  men  have  testified  against  you.  And 
we  pray  to  God  that  you  can  say  'no'  in  answer  to 
it.  Were  you  in  secret  treaty  with  Alp  Arslan 
before  he  withdrew  his  armies?" 

"I  was,"  answered  the  statesman;  "and  for  that 
reason  he  did  withdraw." 

"You're  judged;  you're  judged!  cried  Psellus, 
and  others  echoed  him.  But  the  eyes  of  Nicephorus 
were  on  Eudocia  alone.  He  preserved  his  measured 
speech  and  imparted  to  it  no  note  of  entreaty  or 
protest. 

"Our  mightiest  foe  had  trodden  these  halls,  our 
city  conduits  had  run  blood,  Majesty,  but  for  the 
statecraft  that  held  him  off  with  one  hand  and 
with  the  other  incited  his  enemies  to  proceed 
against  him  in  his  absence.  Diplomacy  remains 
our  only  hope,  while  aggressive  war  is  impossible." 

Eudocia  shook  her  head. 

"The  Emperor  Constantine  loved  you  and  trusted 


60  EUDOCIA 

you.  Well  that  he  did  not  live  to  learn  this  great 
betrayal,"  she  answered.  Then  she  addressed  the 
Caesar. 

"Let  him  be  taken  to  Marmora  to  await  our 
pleasure,"  she  said. 

Mcephorus  did  obeisance ;  then  he  rose  and  gave 
himself  to  a  guard  of  the  household  troops  who 
now  surrounded  him. 

"Farewell,  Majesty.  May  Heaven's  all  watching 
eye  maintain  your  throne,  and  you,  and  the  son  of 
Constantine.  I  shall  leave  this  life  as  indifferently 
as  I  entered  it,  if  that  should  be  your  royal  pur- 
pose; and  yet  I  mourn  to  think  how  the  courts  of 
Hades  must  shiver  at  my  shadow,  and  the  shade 
of  the  dead  Emperor  grow  pale  at  news  of  the 
sword  I  leave  hanging  above  your  ever  glorious 
head." 

"Farewell,"  answered  Eudocia  with  a  deep  sigh. 

Nicephorus  turned  to  John  Ducas. 

"Look  to  the  Kuler,"  he  said  gently.  "Seek 
strength  from  God,  and  set  not  your  trust  on  His 
vicegerent  here,  or  on  our  historian.  They  who 
would  sap  a  throne  may,  like  Samson,  bring  down 
the  pillars  upon  themselves." 

He  moved  away,  and  his  great  white  head  van- 
ished among  the  plumed  helmets  of  the  soldiers. 


THE  PALACE  61 

In  the  silence  there  was  a  sob  and  the  two  girls, 
Gregoria  and  Euphrosyne,  of  the  household  of  the 
fallen  man,  wept  in  each  other's  arms.  Eudocia 
bent  to  them;  while  elsewhere  Xiphilin,  the  Caesar 
and  Michael  Psellus  spoke  aside  together. 

In  a  few  moments  the  Empress  lifted  her  voice 
again. 

"The  charges  against  Romanus  Diogenes,  onr 
Governor  of  Thrace,"  she  said. 

Thereupon  Romanus  stood  out  before  the  throne 
and  Zonaras  and  Philagrius  accompanied  him.  The 
Caesar  spoke. 

"Here,  Majesty,  are  Patricians,  loyal  Thracians," 
he  answered,  naming  the  witnesses.  "They  have 
come  to  bear  their  testimony  of  the  things  they 
heard." 

The  travellers  did  obeisance  and  Zonaras  opened 
the  matter. 

"Upon  compulsion,  Majesty,  we  stand  before 
you;  for  we,  who  were  this  man's  guests,  would 
rather  suffer  great  ills  than  do  him  one." 

"Others,  not  ourselves,  reported  him,"  explained 
Philagrius. 

"And  would  you  have  concealed  high  treason?" 
asked  Eudocia,  regarding  their  care-worn  coun- 
tenances. 


62  EUDOCIA 

"In  truth  we  would  have  forgotten  his  ill-con- 
sidered speech." 

"Why  so?" 

"For  justice,  Majesty,"  replied  Philagrius. 
"Words  as  much  depend  upon  the  ear  that  hears  as 
the  tongue  that  utters ;  the  spirit  alone  quickeneth, 
and  there  was  no  treason  in  the  spirit  of  Romanus. 
Diogenes  is  one  not  used  to  weigh  the  intricate 
pattern  of  woven  words;  and  this  blunt  wish  has 
been  transformed  to  treason  on  the  tongue  of  his 
foes." 

"What  spake  he?"  she  asked. 

Philagrius  turned  to  his  companion,  who  pro- 
ceeded : 

"We  had  poured  libations  to  his  old  master,  the 
late  Emperor  Constantine — a  pagan  rite  in  truth, 
yet  we  held  it  meet  to  do  honour  to  the  dead.  And 
then,  Majesty,  Romanus  spoke  of  Eudocia  Augusta 
and  said,  with  soldierly  forthrightness,  that  she 
was  exceeding  fair  and  sadly  undefended,  as  every 
widowed  empress  must  be.  He,  having  seen  you, 
swore  that  to  do  so  meant  everlasting  loyalty  and 
worship — pity,  too,  now  that  you  reigned  alone. 
'Oh  would  to  God,  my  friends/  said  he,  'that  I 
might  wed  the  Empress  of  the  East  and  for  a 
marriage  gift,  her  armies  recreate  invincible,  all 


THE  PALACE  63 

conquering  as  of  yore !'  So,  with  foolish  rhetoric, 
the  general  spoke  within  the  circle  of  those  he 
trusted." 

"A  double  treason,"  commented  Michael  Psellus. 

"And  what  more  did  he  say?"  asked  Eudocia. 

"No  more,"  answered  Zonaras.  "We  warned  him 
instantly  that  such  a  speech  was  dangerous  as  a 
jest,  and,  if  made  in  sincerity,  the  more  dangerous 
still.  Too  late  he  saw  that  he  had  spoken  treason, 
though  only  with  his  lips.  Base  jealousy  alone  has 
imputed  disloyalty  to  him." 

"He  prayed  us  forget  his  folly,"  added  Philag- 
rius.  "But  who  that  is  loved,  as  Komanus  is 
loved,  escapes  an  enemy?  Secret  foes  have  stabbed 
him,  Majesty,  Pll  swear  to  that." 

Eudocia  spoke  to  the  culprit. 

"When  did  you  see  us,  Romanus?"  she  asked. 

"Once  only,  Majesty,"  he  answered,  "while  the 
late  Emperor  lived.  Affairs  of  a  campaign  sum- 
moned me  to  Court  and  I  beheld  you  by  my  master's 
side." 

She  considered  this  and  recollected  the  occasion. 

"We  wondered  when  first  our  eyes  had  fallen 
upon  you,"  she  replied.  "Now  we  remember.  Can 
you  deny  what  has  been  said  against  you?" 

"Not  one   word,"   answered   Romanus   calmly, 


64  EUDOCIA 

"nor  would  if  I  could.  I  am  noble :  no  Cappadocian 
family  exceeds  my  own  in  ancient  dignities  and 
honour,  and  many  of  the  mightiest  in  Asia  Minor 
are  linked  with  me.  So  much  for  that,  Majesty; 
and  for  the  rest  I  worship  and  adore  you.  I  would 
spend  ten  thousand  lives  for  you,  and  in  this  dark 
hour  I  ask  you,  not  to  spare  me,  or  pardon  my 
crime,  but,  of  your  royal  mercy,  to  let  me  choose 
my  end.  Suffer  me  to  die  before  your  foes.  I  have 
at  least  deserved  to  be  torn  by  lions  in  the  field, 
rather  than  eaten  alive  by  city  rats." 

"Impiously  you  spoke,"  she  said.  Her  face  had 
flushed  a  little  and  her  'eyes  were  bent  upon  the 
Governor,  indifferent  to  the  many  eyes  upon  her 
own. 

"My  words  rang  so,"  he  confessed.  "But  I  did 
not  perceive  the  awful  force  of  them,  Majesty,  be- 
cause my  memory  still  saw  you  a  moon  beside  the 
sun  of  the  Emperor.  Fool  that  I  was  and  sluggish 
of  imagination,  I  still  mirrored  you  in  my  thoughts 
a  lesser  light  reflected  from  Constantine's  sun.  My 
muddy  senses  failed  to  remember  you  were  the  risen 
orb  itself,  reigning  and  burning  in  the  blue  of 
heaven — sole  source  of  light  for  all  your  servants." 

"You  pitied  us,"  she  answered.    "You  dared." 

"Aye,"  he  said.     "I  dared  that,  when  I  looked 


THE  PALACE  65 

back  and  minded  how  I  had  seen  you,  so  ineffable — 
a  budding  flower  of  infinite  and  holy  beauty — 
thrown  into  the  gardens  of  withered  age  and  sun- 
dered from  all  youth.  For  youth  cleaves  to  youth, 
Majesty ;  youth  seeks  its  natural  joy  and  hope  and 
highest  wisdom,  too,  from  youth.  Youth  burns  to 
youth,  as  flame  leaps  up  to  welcome  brother  flame, 
so  only  justifying  itself.  How  shall  the  grey  and 
age-worn  ministers  of  dead  Kings  speak  to  the 
heiress  of  our  present  cares  and  future  hopes?  Why 
must  young  Time  and  all  that  he  promises  be 
chilled  and  manacled  by  men  who  suck  their  worm- 
eaten  caution  and  sagacity  from  a  dead  past? 

"I  saw  you  encircled  with  heads  all  bald,  or 
shaking — forgive  a  soldier.  I  saw  a  Court  that 
reeked  with  monks  and  eunuchs,  and  my  thought 
rebelled  against  such  martyrdom ;  my  blood  boiled 
— boiled  over,  God  forgive  me — so  that  I  cried  to 
myself  how  glorious  a  fate  to  wed  the  Queen,  then, 
like  a  hurricane,  loose  cathartic  lightnings  to 
scorch  and  cleanse,  search  out  each  foul  nook  and 
cranny  and  slay  the  seeds  of  vice  and  cowardice 
and  treachery  fostered  within  them,  for  crops  of 
pestilence  to  come.  I  longed  that  a  clean  soldier, 
like  a  desert  wind,  should  slay  the  noisome,  slimy 
things  I  saw,  stand  at  Eudocia's  side  and  do  man's 


66  EUDOCIA 

work  for  her !  Even  so  I  dreamed  and,  in  a  waking 
dream,  spoke  it  again." 

Eudocia  raised  her  hand,  to  still  a  dozen  furious 
voices  that  simultaneously  shouted  for  death  upon 
the  speaker. 

"He  who  would  love  us  stands  a  branded  traitor 
to  Michael,  son  of  Constantine,"  she  replied  to 
Romanus. 

"Not  so,  Majesty,"  answered  he.  "The  son  of 
Constantine  has  nothing  to  fear  from  one  his  father 
used  as  the  blessed  dead  used  me.  He  gave  me 
trust,  advancement,  honour,  reward.  If  there  be 
a  rival  on  this  earth  for  Prince  Michael,  I  am 
that  man's  first  enemy." 

The  Caesar  spoke  while  still  Eudocia  gazed  with 
parted  lips  at  Diogenes. 

"Return  we  to  your  crime,  Governor  of  Thrace. 
Of  your  lunatic  words  we  have  heard  enough.  The 
evil  that  you  did  was  worse — far  worse  than  any 
thought  against  a  coming  King.  You  linked  your 
name  in  men's  ears  with  that  of  your  Empress, 
knowing  her  to  be  sworn  to  widowhood.  Is  death 
too  mild  reward  for  that?" 

The  Varangians  moved  uneasily  and  a  low  sound, 
like  a  distant  wave,  rose  from  among  them.  Their 
centurion  silenced  the  murmur. 


THE  PALACE  67 

"Have  you  not  heard — you  that  seem  half  a  mad- 
man and  half  still  a  child — have  you  not  heard  that 
our  imperial  oath  before  the  Almighty  is  taken  to 
wed  no  more?" 

Eudocia  spoke  and  Romanus  made  prompt  reply. 

"If  that  were  all,  Majesty!" 

Then  he  turned  to  the  Patriarch,  who  had  al- 
ready torn  the  soldier  to  pieces  with  his  eyes  and 
was  fretting  to  let  fall  his  thunder. 

"What  wit  of  man  can  bind,  wit  of  man  can  loose 
again,"  he  said  scornfully.  "Is  Xiphilin  not  usurer 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  tax-gatherer  to  the  Trinity? 
Trust  him  to  find  a  way  had  Eudocia  the  will !" 

The  priests  and  people  looked  to  the  blazing 
dome  above  them,  and  many  honestly  expected  the 
bolt  of  an  outraged  deity.  The  Patriarch  cried 
aloud  and  voiced  them  nearly  all. 

"Profane  wretch,  would  you  call  Heaven's  fire 
upon  your  accursed  and  blasphemous  head?"  he 
asked,  trembling  with  passion. 

But  Eudocia  stilled  him. 

"Let  Romanus  Diogenes  speak  on,"  she  said. 

"I  dreamed  the  dream,  Divine  One,  and  men  who 
dream  such  dreams  must  perish  for  them,"  an- 
swered the  general.  "But  dream  not  you — dream 
not  that  your  oath  cannot  be  absolved.  Shall  crafty 


68  EUDOCIA 

speeches,  whispered  in  the  ear  of  a  dying  king,  bolt 
and  bar  the  door  of  life  against  all  that  life  has 
to  give  of  what  is  best  and  most  sacred  for  any 
woman?" 

"We  have  indeed  heard  enough!"  cried  John 
Ducas.  "I  implore  Majesty  to  silence  him.  Shall 
the  demented  wretch  preach  passion  of  earth  to 
your  widowed  ears?" 

"Do  you  not  tremble,  Romanus?"  asked 
Eudocia. 

"I  know  not  how  to  tremble,"  he  answered.  "In 
death's  shadow  now  I  stand,  but  never  have  I  feared 
that  stroke  and  never  could.  Rightly  I  am  ac- 
cused of  crime,  for  to  love  you  as  a  woman  was  a 
crime;  but  to  adore  my  Empress,  to  desire  that  I 
might  rebuild  your  broken  armies  and  breed  within 
your  subjects'  hearts  a  sense  of  shame  and  awaken- 
ing manhood — that  was  no  crime.  For  now  the 
Nation  gasps  and  totters  like  a  poisoned  man.  Foul 
marasmus  creeps  through  all  its  fibres,  and  it  has 
fallen  from  every  great  tradition.  At  the  roar  of 
battle  we  tremble;  and  in  time  of  peace  we  still 
tremble,  when  the  'Greens'  howl  at  the  'Blues'  over 
their  petty  politics.  We're  only  brave  when  we're 
drunk;  and  wine,  not  honour,  makes  us  threaten 
valiant  deeds  sobriety  shrinks  from. 


THE  PALACE  69 

"Had  I  lived,  I  had  striven  to  change  that,  as  I 
have  changed  it  in  Thrace.  But  take  heed,  Majesty 
— you  who  are  called  henceforth  to  guide  and 
guard  this  realm.  Build  up  to  their  ancient 
strength  your  armies;  and  remember  this,  that 
stern  self-denial  and  the  Spartan  road  are  not  for 
soldiers  alone.  And,  last,  I  pray  for  the  young  and 
blessed  Eudocia  Augusta  that  her  youth  and  glory 
shall  not  wither  in  loneliness,  for  no  woman's  heart 
can  brook  loneliness — not  even  hers." 

"Swords  strike!  Shut  his  accursed  mouth  for 
ever!"  cried  Michael  Psellus. 

"By  all  the  Seven  Synods  destroy  him!"  urged 
the  Patriarch  approaching  the  throne. 

The  frantic  men  broke  etiquette,  and  Eudocia 
frowned. 

"Let  there  be  silence,"  she  said.  Then  she  turned 
to  Diogenes,  who  awaited  his  guard  and  dismissal. 
Curiously  she  looked  upon  him  and,  with  imperial 
indifference  to  the  press  around  her,  spoke: 

"Come  to  us,  Romanus.  Approach  us,  even  to 
this  step.  We  would  see  if  you  can  bear  yourself 
as  bravely  as  you  speak." 

He  obeyed,  and  slowly  ascended  the  steps  of  the 
throne  until  he  stood  eye  to  eye  with  the  monarch. 
For  a  few  moments  he  looked  steadfastly  upon  her 


70  EUDOCIA 

face  and  neither  her  gaze  nor  his  own  faltered 
under  the  ordeal.  That  singular  trial  lasted  not 
long;  then  the  soldier  covered  his  eyes  with  his 
hand,  as  though  a  light  hurt  them ;  he  knelt,  kissed 
the  hem  of  the  imperial  robe  and  rose  to  his  feet 
again.  Meanwhile  the  woman  showed  no  trace  of 
any  emotion  and  only  herself  heard  her  heart's 
beating.  She  spoke,  and  a  level  tone  for  the  mo- 
ment being  impossible,  against  the  inward  flutter, 
threw  scorn  into  her  voice. 

"You,  too,  can  feel  fear,  Romanus!" 

He  answered  for  her  ear  alone. 

"That's  not  its  name.  Had  I  not  kissed  your 
robe,  I  had  kissed  you!" 

Then  he  returned  to  his  soldiers. 

Xiphilin,  having  marked  the  scene  with  horror, 
was  inspired  to  a  course  his  friends  found  perilous. 
But  he  bided  his  time  while  the  Queen  spoke  very 
calmly. 

"What  tortures  you  have  earned,  Romanus 
Diogenes,  we  shall  determine  at  another  hour  than 
this.  To  the  State  Prisons  upon  Marmora  let  him 
be  taken." 

The  Varangians,  ill  at  ease,  hesitated  at  their 
centurion's  order,  while  the  man  himself  showed 
dismay.     The   royal   guards   revealed   answering 


THE  PALACE  71 

anger    against    the    mercenaries,    and    Romanus 
quelled  his  own  men  with  a  word. 

"To  Marmora,  dogs!"  he  shouted,  and,  with 
Bardas,  departed  among  the  soldiery,  followed  by 
Zonaras,  Philagrius  and  others. 


§  5 

Heads  wagged  together;  voices  murmured;  eyes 
rolled  in  fear  at  the  sullen  barbarians* — a  handful 
from  a  great  army  at  present  assembled  in  the  city. 
Old  men  buzzed ;  younger  ones  showed  indignation. 
Amidst  the  stir  only  Eudocia  sat  as  still  as  a  statue 
carved  in  ivory  and  gold,  staring  out  at  the  blue 
sky  beyond  the  balcony.  She  had  overcome  her 
discomposure  and  turned  to  the  Caesar  as  he  spoke 
to  her. 

"This  man  must  not  be  spared,  royal  sister,"  said 
John  Ducas  in  anxious  tones.  "Delay  will  mean 
disaffection  throughout  the  foreign  armies;  and 
that  might  threaten  unspeakable  disaster." 

"Soldiers  are  but  a  swarm  of  bees ;  they  fight  for 
hive  and  queen  till  she  is  dead,  and  then  forget  her 
and  choose  another.  Let  them  know  instantly  this 
Cappadocian  is  destroyed  and  they  will  grow 
calm." 


72  EUDOCIA 

It  was  the  historian  who  spoke. 

"We  are  the  soldiers'  queen  bee,"  answered 
Eudocia.  "Angel  of  life  are  we,  not  death,  to  all 
our  people.  Why  such  clamour  to  slay?  You  bring 
before  us  an  old,  wise  man,  beloved  by  Constantine 
for  good  reason,  and  this  Governor,  dear  to  our 
foreign  legions.    Shall  both  die?" 

"That  Eudocia  Augusta  may  live,"  answered 
Michael  Psellus. 

"Nicephorus,"  began  the  Caesar,  "though  the 
Patriarch  and  Psellus  differ " 

But  Eudocia  was  roused.  She  had  read  the  spirit 
moving  in  the  hearts  of  these  men  and  anticipated 
them. 

"We  had  rather  see  them  differ,"  she  replied 
sternly. 

"This  is  to  flout  both  Church  and  State  together, 
Majesty,"  declared  Xiphilin. 

"Be  it  so,  then,"  she  answered.  "They  shall 
work  apart,  and  work  the  better  apart.  Allay  your 
heresies,  heal  your  schisms,  and  strive  for  peace  in 
your  own  household,  Patriarch,  and  leave  Michael 
Psellus,  now  our  first  minister,  to  make  the  peace 
in  ours." 

"What  is  this  you  say?"  asked  the  priest  blankly. 

"That  while  we  reign,"  she  answered,  "no  Pope 


THE  PALACE  73 

shall  keep  our  conscience.  Leave  spiritual  domina- 
tion to  the  West.  We  know  the  evil  issues  of  it 
there.  Our  human  heart  is  its  own  temple,  and 
therein  none  shall  ever  minister  but  the  still,  small 
voice  that  speaks  to  us  from  God  Himself." 

She  broke  off,  then  proceeded  upon  another 
theme,  desiring  no  response  to  what  she  had 
spoken. 

"Too  much — too  much  for  a  monarch's  peace 
have  we  heard  and  suffered  before  these  fearless 
tongues  of  fallen  men.  Death  and  disgrace  blow 
down  upon  us  from  all  the  winds.  Our  provinces 
are  lopped  off,  our  power  broken." 

"The  boughs  may  shed  a  branch  here  and  there, 
Majesty;  but  what  great  tree  can  come  through 
every  blast  unscathed?"  asked  the  Caesar.  "Our 
trunk  is  sturdy  and  will  sprout  again." 

"Still  Eudocia  reigns  from  Nice  unto  Belgrade," 
declared  Michael  Psellus.  "Her  sceptre  sways  all 
Thrace  and  Greece  and  Macedonia,  Cyprus  and 
Rhodes,  the  fifty  blessed  isles  of  the  iEgean." 

"What  are  these?  A  rag  to  cover  our  shame," 
she  answered. 

"Is  Constantinople  nothing?"  asked  John  Ducas. 
"Mighty  Byzantium  glows,  the  first  gem  of  the 
earth,  the  bulwark  of  Christian  Europe  against  the 


74  EUDOCIA 

infidel  —  the  wealthiest,  most  populous,  rarest, 
holiest  Queen  of  Cities  this  world  hath  known,  or 
ever  shall.  Our  palaces,  our  churches,  our  har- 
bours, our  marts  exist  forever  impregnable  behind 
our  walls — those  mountains  built  by  the  genius  of 
the  past  to  laugh  at  Time." 

"Who  laughs  at  Time  but  a  fool,  brother?"  asked 
Eudocia.  "Man  is  the  rust  and  canker  that  Time 
uses  to  do  his  work  quickliest.  The  lightning  is 
slow  and  the  tempest  idle  to  the  destructive  force 
of  human  hearts.  What  matter  mountains  if  only 
mice  lie  behind  them?  Heard  you  not  Komanus 
Diogenes — how  he  said  that  what  wit  of  man  can 
build,  man  can  pull  down?  The  world  breeds  men, 
even  as  a  cheese  breeds  mites — to  its  own  destruc- 
tion. 'Men'  we  say.  Where  shall  we  seek  for 
them?  The  Cappadocian  was  a  man  and  told  the 
truth  to  me." 

"Majesty,"  answered  Psellus.  "Romanus  spoke 
as  one  already  dead  and  therefore  careless  of  what 
his  lips  uttered." 

"He  is  not  dead,"  answered  the  Empress;  and 
then  Xiphilin,  feeling  that  his  hour  had  come, 
addressed  her. 

"I  pray  you,  listen,  Majesty,  to  those  of  your 
counsellors  who  hold  tradition  sacred.    We  are  at 


THE  PALACE  75 

a  moment  in  our  affairs  when  the  royal  heart  must 
beat  for  Empire  only ;  we  face  a  stupendous  crisis 
of  our  destinies,  when  it  must  become  you,  as  you 
yourself  have  told  us  your  custom  is,  to  call  upon 
the  Living  God  and  follow  where  His  Holy  Finger 
points.  Well,  indeed,  the  Empire  knows  that  you 
are  wise  and  most  devout — a  fit  Queen  for  the 
mother  city  of  Christendom.  Therefore  I  say,  be 
swift  to  hear  the  still,  small  voice  that  whispers  at 
the  altar  of  your  spirit.  Without  fear  I  urge  upon 
you,  in  Heaven's  name,  that  if  it  be  demanded 
what  you  so  nobly  hold  should  as  nobly  be  re- 
nounced— then  follow  the  Sacred  Hand,  though  it 
may  lead  beyond  your  throne  to  higher  things." 

The  Court  moved  again,  and  new  fear  and  anger 
flashed  from  many  eyes.  The  Caesar  shared  the 
fear.    He  whispered  to  Xiphilin. 

"For  God's  love,  choose  your  words!  This  is 
no  time " 

But  Psellus  supported  the  Patriarch. 

"He's  right,  John  Ducas.  A  ripe  moment.  Say 
it  sternly  now,  and  let  her  think  upon  the  drift.  It 
must  come  swiftly,  and  why  not  to-day?" 

Eudocia,  who  had  echoed  none  of  the  strong  feel- 
ing that  now  surged  around  her,  and  flamed  on  the 
faces  of  her  women,  asked  Xiphilin  a  question.  She 


76  EUDOCIA 

understood  him  well  enough,  but  pretended  as  yet 
not  to  do  so. 

"What  more  shall  we  renounce  than  is  renounced 
already  by  our  oath,  Patriarch  ?" 

"Look  in  your  own  heart,  Empress,  and  seek 
there  the  wisdom  and  the  celestial  way  that  leads 
to  the  only  answer,"  he  replied. 

"Already !"  she  said,  smiling.  "Now  we  perceive 
— still  dimly,  but  with  a  waxing  light — what 
Mcephorus  was  thinking." 

"I  pray  you  hear  me,"  begged  the  high  priest. 

"We  shall  hear.  But  do  not  our  people  love  us 
still,  with  living  and  human  love,  or  are  you  per- 
chance the  echo  of  sounds  that  have  not  yet  struck 
our  ears?" 

"Of  human  love  I  pray  you  not  to  speak,  Maj- 
esty. We've  heard  enough  of  that  from  the  gross, 
doomed  soldier,"  answered  Xiphilin.  "Love  of 
State,  love  of  principle,  if  need  be  love  of  sacrifice, 
alone  remain  to  her  who  took  your  sacred  oaths." 

"The  murder's  out !"  she  said ;  and  a  sudden  hiss 
and  deep  growl  ran  through  the  blazing  figures 
around  her.  Irene  spoke  loud  and  shrill,  while  her 
aged  countenance  was  wrinkled  with  passion,  and 
she  glared  at  the  arch-priest. 


THE  PALACE  77 

"More  traitors  come  to  Court  than  are  con- 
demned by  it !"  she  cried. 

Michael  Psellus  lifted  his  voice  and  struck  home 
without  fear. 

"An  emperor  the  Empire  demands  to-day  as 
never  yet  in  its  history,"  he  declared,  "and  they 
are  traitors  to  the  dynasty — they  are  traitors  to 
the  throne  of  the  East — who  dare  deny  it." 

Eudocia  restrained  her  threatening  courtiers  and 
called  for  peace.  Then  she  turned  to  the  last 
speaker. 

"And  what  are  we,  Michael  Psellus?"  she 
asked. 

"A  woman,  Majesty,"  he  said.  "And  your  re- 
vered sex,  by  its  nature,  cannot  reign  alone." 

She  smiled  again. 

"We  must  not  wed,  and  may  not  reign,  it  seems," 
she  answered,  as  though  reflecting  rather  than 
making  a  reply.  "Not  home  or  sovereignty,  not 
love  or  power,  shall  be  permitted  us." 

Then  she  frowned,  the  colour  deepened  on  her 
face,  and  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  Michael  Psellus. 

"Your  memory  is  weak  for  one  who  would  write 
history,"  she  said.  "We  pray  you  cast  it  back  a 
little  to  royal  women,  they  the  people  loved,  who 


78  EUDOCIA 

have  written  their  reigns  in  letters  of  gold.  Do  you 
account  us  another  Martina,  to  be  hurled  down  by 
the  nation's  righteous  rage  and  hate?" 

"The  people  indeed  would  worship  you,  if  they 
dared,  my  sister,"  declared  John  Ducas;  "but  the 
mob  is  full  of  moods  and,  like  the  Inland  Sea,  they 
smile  to-day  and  sink  a  ship  to-morrow." 

"Nevertheless  we  would  trust  them  sooner  than 
some  voices  that  we  have  just  heard;  their  wel- 
coming shout  is  sweeter  music  to  us  than  any 
speech  of  counsellors — sweeter  and  dearer  to  our 
hearts.  Because  we  know  the  voice  of  the  multi- 
tude is  the  voice  of  our  God." 

"Madness,  Majesty!  Believe  no  such  folly,  but 
seek  your  God  in  Heaven,"  said  Xiphilin. 

"He  chose  us  out  of  the  myriads  of  women  to  fill 
this  throne,"  she  answered.  "That  at  least  admits 
no  question;  and  shall  we  desert  it  for  some  cold, 
cowardly  nook  in  that  uplifted  tomb  of  living  dead 
men  call  a  nunnery?" 

Again  a  sibilant  tremor  passed  through  the  ranks 
of  the  women. 

"Your  thought  is  unripe  and  harsh,  Eudocia 
Augusta,"  replied  Xiphilin  very  earnestly.  "The 
cloister,  not  the  throne,  promises  an  everlasting 
fame  that  seldom  yet  has  crowned  a  king.  Is  it  not 
better  to  be  the  haloed  saint  of  heaven,  with  life 


THE  PALACE  79 

consecrated  to  holiness,  than  still  a  royal  doll, 
having  no  purpose  nobler  than  the  people's  futile 
will?" 

Cries  of  indignation  gathered,  and  he  turned 
upon  the  Court  and  lifted  his  voice,  clarion  clear, 
above  the  rest. 

"Think  not  I  dread  your  tongues,  ye  godless 
sycophants!  Be  warned,  for  he  who  would  dare 
flout  me,  questions  the  Name  of  Him  for  Whom  I 
speak." 

He  turned  again  to  the  impassive  Queen. 

"Oh,  save  your  soul  alive  by  your  own  august 
will,  Majesty.  Fly  this  vain  and  hollow  pageant; 
quit  this  empty  life  of  glittering  worthlessness,  to 
seek  God  and  reality  by  devout  and  close  com- 
munion with  eternal  truth !  There  only  your  high 
destiny  beckons — the  life  of  service,  worship,  hu- 
mility— all  higher  than  a  throne.  Trample  beneath 
your  feet  the  asp  and  basilisk ;  slay  pride ;  conquer 
lust " 

Something  like  a  scream  broke  from  the  elder 
women  who  listened,  and  men  also  displayed  furi- 
ous indignation.  Irene  voiced  a  hundred.  Forget- 
ting the  place  and  time,  she  leapt  down,  as  though 
she  would  tear  the  Patriarch's  eyes  with  her  with- 
ered fingers,  and  stood  panting  against  him. 

"Thou  wretch!"  she  cried,  "to  sully  the  driven 


80  EUDOCIA 

snow  of  the  imperial  heart  with  thine  impurities! 
Out  upon  thee,  traitor  to  the  Throne." 

Xiphilin  fell  back  before  a  roar  of  hearty  temper, 
and  the  Caesar,  who  was  trembling,  spoke  to  him. 

"You've  gone  too  far,"  he  said. 

"Fear  not,"  answered  the  Patriarch.  "I  saw  her 
eyes  shine  upon  her  accursed  general.  She  under- 
stands that  I  have  spoken  no  needless  word." 

Caesar  mounted  to  the  steps  of  the  throne,  where 
silent,  and  without  visible  anger,  the  Empress  sat 
regarding  Xiphilin.  Neither  orb  nor  sceptre  quiv- 
ered in  her  steady  hands. 

Psellus  also  warned  the  high  priest. 

"You  will  fall,"  he  said.  "This  may  destroy  us 
both.  The  army  is  still  with  her.  We  have  gone 
too  fast." 

"We  are  unconquerable,"  answered  Xiphilin, 
"while  we  remain  of  one  mind  and  in  the  right." 

Then  the  situation  cleared  and  the  storm  passed 
at  the  Caesar's  voice. 

"Audience  is  ended,"  he  announced,  and  the 
heralds  echoed  him.  A  great  movement  swayed 
the  people,  and  a  sound  like  a  falling  wave  escaped 
from  the  mass  of  them.  Under  it  ran  fury  still. 
Only  the  woman  on  her  throne  sat  motionless  and 
silent,  gazing  at  the  Patriarch. 


THE  PALACE  81 

His  attendants  approached  him,  and  beneath  the 
acolyte's  golden  cross,  he  made  obeisance  and 
uttered  a  last  word. 

"Not  in  my  own  name,  but  for  the  King  of 
Kings  I  have  spoken,  Majesty." 

She  did  not  answer,  and  her  eyes  followed  him 
until  he  had  disappeared. 

The  Court  obeyed  its  rites;  the  trumpets  again 
sounded;  the  silver  doors  were  opened,  and  the 
Senators  marched  through  them,  followed  by  their 
retinues.  The  throng  thinned  gradually  to  music, 
while  Irene  and  Theodora  disrobed  the  Empress 
and  relieved  her  of  robe,  diadem  and  many  heavy 
ornaments.  The  marks  of  royalty  were  borne  away, 
and  with  her  gauds  Eudocia  seemed  to  fling  down 
the  part  they  dressed,  and  grow  younger  and  more 
human.  She  was  very  silent,  but  smiled  at  Theo- 
dora, who,  with  a  silken  kerchief,  cooled  her  hot 
forehead. 

The  Caesar  spoke. 

"We  leave  you,  but  will  sup  with  you,  sister," 
he  said.  Then  he  followed  the  company  into  the 
palace  with  Michael  Psellus. 

Soon  the  doors  were  shut  again,  and  only  the 
guard  remained,  while  Eudocia,  descending, 
walked  with  the  women  to  the  balcony.    There  she 


82  EUDOCIA 

rested  while  two  little  negresses  fanned  her,  and 
small  page  boys  waited  with  basins  of  fruit  and 
sweetmeats,  and  crystal  flagons  of  white  wine.  The 
Empress  loved  the  ministry  of  children,  and  de- 
lighted to  see  young  things  about  her. 

§  6 

The  Monarch  discarded  sovereignty  with  its 
emblems,  but  active  care  sat  upon  her  forehead 
and  clashed  with  much  that  moved  in  her  brain. 
Light  flashed  fitfully  through  the  cloudy  weather 
of  Eudocia's  mind,  and  none  guessed  all  that  was 
stirring  there.  Irene  came  close  and  took  her 
hand.  To  Theodora,  the  golden-headed,  a  child 
brought  a  frame,  whereon  she  worked  in  silk; 
Maria — a  dark  woman — sat  by  the  balustrade  with 
her  eyes  upon  the  sea;  while  the  maidens 
Euphrosyne  and  Gregoria,  squatted  together  on 
the  marble  floor,  whispered  of  Nicephorus,  and 
played  at  knuckle-bones. 

Irene  spoke,  and  her  voice  still  panted  with  past 
anger. 

"If  eyes  could  kill,  then  you'd  have  slain  the  base 
thing.  I  shall  not  live  again  till  Xiphilin  has  paid 
the  price  for  this." 


THE  PALACE  83 

"My  ears  drank  poison.  Yet,  though  I  have  long 
understood  what  was  growing,  it  finds  me  unpre- 
pared.    I  am  a  true  Byzantine — slow  to  action." 

"An  avenging  angel  you  should  be,"  said  the 
ancient. 

"Why  do  Churchmen  think  so  evil  of  women?" 
asked  Theodora. 

"Because  they  misread  the  Faith,  torture  their 
Creed,  forget  Christ,  and  flout  at  Nature,"  an- 
swered Irene.  "They  hate  us  all  because  they  may 
not  love  us.  Whereon  Nature  takes  her  revenge, 
and  makes  the  sweet  and  fair  look  foul  and  evil  in 
their  eyes.  You  kept  your  temper  with  him,  Eu- 
docia!  I  could  not." 

"My  temper  will  soon  be  all  that  I  have  left  to 
keep,"  answered  the  Empress. 

"Would  to  Highest  God  that  you  might  love!" 
murmured  Theodora.  "I,  that  know  love,  marvel 
how  any  woman  endures  her  life  without  it.  Love 
is  the  only  rainbow  in  the  clouds — the  clouds  that 
mostly  make  our  lives." 

"And  passion  the  crooked  lightning  in  those 
clouds.  Be  sure  that  both  are  fleeting,  Theodora," 
warned  the  dark  girl  with  her  eyes  on  the  sea. 

"Leave  that  stuff  to  Xiphilin,  Maria,"  replied  the 
betrothed  of  Bardas.    "Wait  till  you  know  better." 


84  EUDOCIA 

"True  love  is  not  fleeting,"  declared  Eudocia. 
"Though  I  have  never  felt  it,  my  heart  reverences 
true  love  beyond  all  true  things:  it  is  the  very 
height  of  truth." 

"Grant  now,  Theodora,  that  to  Bardas,  the  Cap- 
padocian  was  an  oak  to  a  reed,"  cried  Gregoria. 
"I  never  saw  such  another.  May  a  Romanus  love 
me  some  day !" 

"Seek  Bardas,"  said  the  Empress.  "I  have  a 
command.  Go  you,  Theodora:  you'll  best  know 
where  to  find  him." 

The  bright-haired  girl  rose  happily. 

"It  is  his  hour  with  the  hawks,  if  he  be  not  still 
with  Diogenes,"  she  answered,  and  descended  into 
the  garden. 

"How  the  lady  loves!"  sighed  Maria. 

"I  would  she  loved  a  better  man,"  answered  her 
mistress.  "Theodora  is  a  thousand  times  too  brave 
and  beautiful  for  our  Protostrator." 

"They  do  adore  each  other* — even  their  hands 
can't  keep  from  clinging,"  said  Euphrosyne. 
"They  creep  out  to  each  other  in  secret,  like  little 
birds.    I've  often  watched  them." 

"Yet  time  runs  seldom  on  the  side  of  passion," 
mused  Maria. 

"A  poor  thing  is  our  Bardas,"  declared  Irene 


THE  PALACE  85 

frankly.  "Shallow  and  vain,  and  a  coward  as  I 
think  under  his  booming  voice.  I  marvel  that  the 
Patriarch  should  have  a  fool  for  a  brother." 

"Surely  it  is  no  misfortune  to  be  a  fool,  for  fools 
at  least  are  happy,"  answered  Eudocia.  "Bardas 
is  the  only  happy  man  I  know." 

"What  shall  you  do?"  asked  the  old  woman. 

"As  yet  I  cannot  think;  but  something  resolute 
and  swift.  I  trust  the  people,  Irene,  for  all  they 
say  against  them." 

"And  never  sovereign  safelier  trusted.  Let  your 
cry  reach  them,  and  the  factions  will  rise — the 
'Greens'  and  the  'Blues'  alike — and  the  army  also, 
in  such  a  storm  that  these  ugly  things  must  soon 
be  swept  to  perdition.  Mcephorus  warned  you. 
Scarcely  was  his  back  turned  when  these  wretches 
began  their  disloyal  work." 

A  young  voice  rang  up  from  the  garden. 

"Is  my  mother  there,  Maria?" 

"Yes,  gracious  Prince,"  she  answered,  and  a 
moment  later,  Michael  Ducas,  followed  by  his 
guardian,  ran  up  the  steps. 

Meantime  Irene  had  spoken  to  Gregoria. 

"Bid  the  new  singer  come — the  girl  from  Cyprus. 
Majesty  is  out  of  heart — she  may  amuse  her  for  a 
moment" 


86  EUDOCIA 

Gregoria  crossed  the  main  hall  and  disappeared, 
while  Michael  ran  to  Eudocia's  couch. 

"I'm  thirsty,"  he  said,  and  took  fruit. 

"And  what  have  you  been  doing?"  asked  his 
mother. 

He  held  up  a  great  yellow  plum  to  her. 

"Kiss  it — to  make  it  sweeter  inside,"  he  de- 
manded. 

"What  a  courtier !"  laughed  Euphrosyne. 

"Saurus  has  turned  into  a  hateful  crow,"  de- 
clared Michael,  "and  he  shall  be  mine  no  more." 

"Our  Lizard  turned  into  a  crow?"  asked  Irene. 

"Crunk — crunk!  He  croaks,  and — and — every- 
thing's so  sad,"  replied  the  child.  He  gave  a  little 
sob  and  bit  fiercely  into  his  plum  to  hide  the  sound. 

"Why,  you've  been  crying,  Michael!"  said  the 
Empress. 

"I  have  not!"  he  answered,  with  his  mouth  full. 
"It  wasn't  crying;  but  my  eyes  blinked  without 
leave — Mcephorus — I  love  him  so ;  and  now  you've 
sent  him  to  be  turned  into  a  monk." 

"Only  outside — a  cowl  doesn't  make  a  monk," 
grunted  Saurus.  He  sat  on  a  cushion  beside  the 
royal  couch. 

"Or  diadem  an  Empress,"  said  Eudocia. 
"Would  you  like  to  see  me  take  the  veil,  Irene?" 


THE  PALACE  87 

"I'd  tear  it  off  with  these  gouty  claws,"  she 
answered. 

"The  Patriarch  would  rather  see  me  saint  than 
queen,  Saurus,"  continued  Eudocia.  She  appeared 
to  be  uttering  idle  words,  while  her  real  thoughts 
moved  out  of  sight.  She  was  cast  down  and  sighed 
sometimes. 

"Of  course  he  would,"  answered  the  little  man. 
"Saints  are  easier  to  manage.  Saints,  in  this  land, 
are  many,  queens  are  few." 

"And  Xiphilin's  a  knave — an  insolent,  godless 
knave,"  snapped  out  Irene.  "Strike  before  you're 
struck ;  cast  him  down  and  choose  another  priest — 
a  man  who  knows  his  place — not  a  greedy  patrician 
masquerading  as  a  humble  servant  of  the  Lord.  A 
bandit  in  a  cope,  a  mitred  thief — a  traitor  to  his 
Empress.  If  there  had  been  a  man  at  Court  he 
should  have  been  slain  to-day." 

"You  are  a  heroine,  Madam,"  declared  Saurus 
gravely.  "Yours  the  courage  to  say  what  all  think, 
yet  fear  for  their  lives  to  whisper." 

"The  Patriarch  would  destroy  all  womenkind  at 
once  through  me,"  admitted  Eudocia. 

"Then,  for  all  womenkind,  destroy  him,"  urged 
Irene.  "Is  it  not  vile  that  men  whom  we  have 
borne,  and  given  their  flesh  and  blood  and  chance 


88  EUDOCIA 

of  eternity,  should  thus  revile  the  sacred  sex  of 
their  mothers?" 

,  "Too  late  to  rage,"  replied  the  Lizard.  "She's 
hung  up  her  sword  to  rust  by  Marmora  now.  Only 
Mcephorus  would  brave  our  holy  father,  and 
Xiphilin  knew  it.    He  has  long  waited  his  chance." 

"There  is  the  Caesar,"  answered  Irene.  "He  was 
angered  beyond  measure  with  Xiphilin,  and  bade 
him  be  silent." 

"John  Ducas  is  a  willow  wand  that  bends  to  any 
breeze.  He  was  frightened  perhaps — not  angry," 
answered  the  Lizard.    Then  Eudocia  silenced  him. 

"Peace,"  she  said.    "Prate  of  other  things." 

"Did  I  not  tell  the  truth  when  I  declared  he 
croaked  and  croaked?"  asked  Michael. 

"Make  him  ask  us  a  riddle,  or  tell  us  a  story," 
begged  Euphrosyne. 

"Come,  then,  so  I  will,"  answered  the  dwarf.  "I'll 
do  both,  and  first  give  heed  to  a  true  tale  of  a 
ghost,  girls." 

He  drank  wine  and  spoke. 

"Dion,  the  Syracusan,  after  he  had  freed  his 
country  from  tyrants,  with  great  glory  to  himself, 
sitting  in  his  house  about  noon,  beheld  suddenly  a 
woman  in  habit  of  a  Fury,  of  huge  size  and  most 
hideous  ugliness.     Without  speaking  a  word  she 


THE  PALACE  89 

swept  the  floor  of  the  chamber  with  a  broom,  and 
perceiving  her  to  be  no  human  thing,  but  a  spectre, 
Dion  lifted  his  voice  and  called  his  people,  where- 
upon she  vanished  into  the  air.  And,  even  as  Dion, 
we  may  soon  see  dark  spectres  wielding  their 
ghostly  brooms  within  the  palace,  for  what  fol- 
lowed to  that  hero?  The  evil  pre-signified  by  this 
phantom  came  swiftly  upon  him.  His  son  perished 
of  an  accident,  falling  from  his  chariot,  and  con- 
spirators lay  in  wait  and  slew  Dion  himself  under 
his  own  roof,  thereafter  dragging  his  wife  and 
daughter  to  prison.  Thus  was  his  house  swept 
clean  indeed." 

"Oh,  hateful  Lizard!"  cried  Michael. 

"A  riddle  now — a  riddle,"  ran  on  the  little  man. 
"Come,  the  reason  for  mankind,  Maria?" 

"Not  mankind  nor  womankind  can  tell  the 
reason,"  replied  she. 

"For  a  right  good  reason  too,"  declared  Irene. 
"It's  not  on  earth.  Not  all  the  wit  of  all  the  wise, 
alive  or  dead,  can  tell." 

"Perhaps  love  could,"  said  the  Empress. 

"Can  Saurus?"  asked  Euphrosyne. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  he  replied.  "Such  a  pearl  should 
be  kept  close;  but  since  none  of  you  will  believe 
me,  no  harm  is  done.     The  mightiest  truths  run 


90  EUDOCIA 

naked  through  the  world  for  lack  of  credence  to 
clothe  them.  So  they  outrage  our  all-conquering 
falsehoods,  and  go  to  prison  for  indecency.  We 
are  here  for  a  condiment  and  sharp  sauce,  to  keep 
the  celestial  dishes  from  tastelessness.  That  is  the 
whole  matter.  At  the  immortal  dinner-party  up 
aloft  the  gods  drink  blood — not  wine — to  keep  their 
chilly  ichor  warm.  Man  means  death — the  tiger 
in  the  arena.  He  gives  flavour  and  counter-flavour 
to  keep  the  meal  sapid.  For  unto  them  this  death 
of  ours  is  the  unknowable  and  wondrous  thing,  the 
fascinating  mystery,  the  cream  they  can  never 
taste.  Our  incense  makes  them  cough;  our  sac- 
rifices bore  them  to  despair ;  but  when  we're  at  each 
other's  throats,  then  they  wake  up  and  clap  their 
hands  and  laugh,  to  see  what  ridiculous  and  bloody 
pains  we  take  to  make  our  short  days  shorter." 

"Never  will  I  believe  it,"  cried  Irene. 

"Of  course  you  won't.  I  said  you  would  not," 
answered  the  Lizard. 

"The  reason  for  us  is  hidden  with  God,"  de- 
clared Maria.  "He  wills  that  crown  of  knowledge 
shall  be  denied  us  here." 

Bardas  entered  at  this  moment  with  Theodora. 

"Bardas  came  into  the  world,  I'm  sure,  for  The- 
odora's happiness,"  declared  Euphrosyne. 


THE  PALACE  •         91 

"It  is  well  said,"  answered  her  mistress.  "May- 
hap we  all  come  into  the  world  to  win  our  eternal 
salvation  by  bringing  happiness  for  others." 

She  turned  to  Bardas. 

"You  know  Malthus?"  she  asked,  and  he  said 
that  he  did. 

"Red  Malthus  of  the  prisons,  Majesty?  I  know 
him  well  enough." 

"Go  to  him  then ;  and  let  him  hear  that  'tis  our 
wish  you  share  his  present  task.  Take  up  your 
quarters  there,  for  there  are  now  two  beside  Mar- 
mora who  must  be  treated  as  becomes  their  state. 
Attend  Romanus  Diogenes  and  Mcephorus  until 
we  summon  you  again,  and  see  that  their  apart- 
ments look  toward  the  sun  and  stand  high  upon 
the  southern  face  of  the  great  tower." 

"Malthus  is  a  surly  bear,"  declared  Bardas. 
"His  calling  turns  him  into  Cerberus.  I'll  go  at 
once  and  gallop.  May  Theodora  come,  Majesty,  to 
ride  with  me  an  hour  and  return?" 

"Let  me  go  with  him,"  begged  Theodora. 

"Who  would  separate  soul  from  body?  Not  I," 
answered  Eudocia. 

They  departed  together,  and  Michael  spoke  to  his 
mother. 

"Bardas    has    bought    a    gift    for    Theodora," 


92  EUDOCIA 

he  said.  "A  black  monkey  with  a  sad,  white 
face." 

"That  sounds  more  like  a  monk  than  a  monkey, 
Prince,"  laughed  Saurus. 

Then  returned  Gregoria  with  the  singer  and  two 
musicians.  The  island-girl  was  tall  and  full- 
bosomed,  clad  in  purple,  and  decorated  with  tin- 
kling, brass  trinkets.  Of  the  two  men  with  her,  one 
played  a  pipe,  the  other  a  theorbo,  or  arch-lute — a 
great,  stringed  instrument  to  accompany  the  voice. 

"The  Cyprian,  Zoe,"  said  Gregoria.  "Pray  let 
her  sing  to  you,  Majesty." 

A  line  of  poetry  passed  through  Eudocia's  mind 
and  she  repeated  it,  as  though  to  herself  alone. 

"  TJpon  that  land  the  foam-born  leapt  to  earth, 
And  morning  laughed  with  a  new  loveliness 
When  her  shell  stranded  on  the  expectant  shore.'" 

She  turned  to  the  kneeling  singer. 

"What  can  you  sing,  Zoe?"  she  asked,  and  the 
girl  answered. 

"Of  all  things,  Majesty." 

Eudocia  smiled. 

"Then  sing  to  us  a  song  of  love,  my  nightingale." 

"And  let  it  be  a  happy  song,"  added  Irene.  "We 
want  no  dumps." 


THE  PALACE  93 

The  Empress,  however,  was  not  of  her  mind. 

"I  will  no  happy  song,"  she  said. 

"A  song  of  sad  love  then,"  added  Gregoria,  "but 
not  too  sad." 

"There  are  more  songs  wrote  and  sung  of  sad 
love  than  all  other  things,"  answered  Zoe. 

She  reflected  a  moment,  then  turned  to  the  mu- 
sicians. They  sat  to  play,  and  the  company  also 
reclined.  Saurus  took  up  Theodora's  silk  frame 
and  proceeded  with  her  work ;  Michael  went  to  the 
fountain,  kicked  off  his  shoes  and  dabbled  his  feet 
among  the  black  and  silver  carp  that  swam  there. 

The  flute  throbbed  and  the  arch-lute  drummed 
gently  while  Zoe  sang. 

"The  Song  of  the  Wbeath 
"Where  are  the  orange  flowers  I  hid  away, 
So  silvery  and  bright, 
My  sisters  wove 
Out  of  their  love, 
To  make  a  little  wreath  upon  the  day 
That  saw  me  bride, 
When  sunshine  died 
Upon  this  wedded  night? 

"Oh,  perished  sweetness  from  my  mother's  home 
Under  the  olive  hill, 
It  was  not  dew 
But  tears  that  slew 
Your  loveliness;  and  mine  to  this  has  come. 
Would  ye  were  now 
Gold  on  the  bough 
And  I  a  maiden  still." 


94  EUDOCIA 

When  the  last  notes  had  ceased,  Eudocia  spoke. 

"May  you  never  feel  what  you  so  sweetly  sing," 
she  said.    "Give  the  girl  this." 

Euphrosyne  took  a  bracelet  from  the  wrist  of  the 
Empress,  and  the  singer  thanked  her,  bending  low. 

"Hail,  Majesty.  Your  slave  doth  bless  your 
gracious  bounty!" 

"And  now  she's  rich  enough  to  taste  unhappy 
love  herself,"  commented  Saurus. 

Eudocia  desired  no  more  music,  and  the  mu- 
sicians departed.  Then  Maria  spoke  in  her  gloomy 
fashion. 

"Full  many  a  wife  hath  wished  her  wreath  back 
upon  the  bough,"  she  murmured. 

"But  what  is  that  to  me?"  asked  the  Empress, 
as  Irene  rose. 

"Well,  rude  hunger  is  digging  at  my  old  ribs" 
she  declared.  "He  waits  for  neither  grief  nor  joy, 
nor  God  nor  man.  It's  time  to  eat  and  drink,  my 
Empress." 

"Depart — all  of  you,"  answered  Eudocia,  "and 
leave  me  awhile.  Go  your  ways.  My  appetite  is 
sleeping." 

"There  is  better  bread  than  is  made  of  wheat; 
and  God  help  those  who  do  not  sometimes  hunger 
for  it,"  said  Saurus.    Then  the  company  entered  the 


THE  PALACE  95 

palace,  and  only  Michael  was  left  with  his  mother. 
At  the  same  moment  the  silver  doors  opened  and 
the  guard  changed.  Two  rows  of  metal-clad  raen 
departed;  two  rows  took  their  place,  to  stand  as 
silent  and  motionless  as  the  pillars  of  the  outer 
balcony;  and  since  they  were  beyond  earshot,  Eu- 
docia  and  her  son  held  them  as  no  more  human 
than  the  columns  of  stone. 

"Now  you're  alone,"  he  said,  lifting  his  feet  out 
of  the  fountain;  "alone  with  only  me,  mother. 
That's  how  best  I  love  you." 

"I'm  never  alone — with  you,  Michael." 

"You're  safe  enough,"  he  assured  her,  "now  that 
I  wear  a  dagger.  It  is  sharp  too.  I  cut  my  thumb 
this  morning,  but  that's  well  again.  Why  are  you 
sad  and  pouting,  mother?" 

"How  do  you  know  that  I  am  sad?" 

"I  always  know,  because  your  lips  keep  comfort- 
ing each  other,  and  your  tongue  peeps  out  some- 
times, to  try  and  cheer  them  up,  and  your  eyes  stare 
at  things  you  can't  see.  Why  don't  you  laugh,  like 
other  pretty  girls?" 

"Perhaps  I  have  nothing  to  make  me  laugh  'like 
other  pretty  girls,'  Michael." 

"Why  have  you  not  then — you,  who  might  have 
everything?" 


96  EUDOCIA 

"I'm  lonely,"  she  answered,  "but  nobody  can  en- 
dure to  be  quite  lonely,  so  Romanus  told  me.  If 
some  one  loved  me,  Michael — then,  perhaps,  I 
should  be  lonely  no  more,  and  laugh  at  the  others — 
they  who  do  not  love  me." 

"Everybody  loves  somebody,"  the  child  assured 
her.  "If  people  love  you  not,  mother,  then  make 
them  love  you.  You're  the  Empress.  You  have  but 
to  command  and  say,  'Love  me/  then  the  whole 
world  must  fall  down  and  love  you." 

"I  only  want  my  share  of  love,  Michael — the  love 
of  just  one  real,  living  man  would  be  enough  I'm 
sure." 

"Why  only  one?  An  Empress  should  have  ten 
thousand  men  to  love  her,  and  die  for  her." 

"Let  all  love  the  Empress  and  one  love  the 
woman,  Michael  boy." 

"Where  is  he  then?  He  shall  be  brought,  though 
we  send  to  the  moon  for  him,  mother." 

"You  love  me  well  enough?" 

"Of  course  I  do." 

"And  many  others  you  love  too?" 

But  he  shook  his  head. 

"Not  many.  It's  tiring  to  love  many.  Only  old 
Lizard — I  said  I  hated  him,  but  I  don't — only  old 
Lizard  and  Nicephorus.  Oh,  how  sad — how  sad! 
Must  he  be  a  monk?    I  should  have  thought  there 


THE  PALACE  97 

were  enough  already.  And  he  indeed  loved  you. 
I  know  he  did,  though  he's  so  ugly.  Ugly  people 
can  love  as  well  as  pretty  ones." 

"So  thought  I,  Michael.  I  thought  that  he  was 
faithful.  Now  they  say  I  must  not  trust  him.  So 
only  my  boy's  left." 

"I  saw  Romanus  go — he  was  gloomy,  and  terrible 
to  look  at.    Lizard  swore  Romanus  loved  you  too." 

"And  dies  for  it — did  he  tell  you  that?" 

"Romanus  dies!  That  huge  man  to  die!  I'm 
sorry  then;  I'm  very  sorry  he  is  going  to  die,  be- 
cause he  was  so  strong  and  so  beautiful,  like  a 
statue  made  alive.  Oh  death  is  horrible — I  hate  it 
— I  hate  it,  mother.    Why  do  you  kill  people?" 

"You  saw  him  marched  away?"  she  asked. 

"Yes ;  we  climbed  upon  the  wall  and  watched  him 
go  with  the  strange  soldiers — and  they  were 
angry." 

Michael  broke  off,  filled  with  an  inspiration.  He 
looked  anxiously  at  his  mother,  sideways,  from 
under  his  dark  brows.  He  was  desirous  to  speak 
his  thought,  yet  feared  a  little.  At  last  he  plucked 
up  courage,  while  in  her  mind  Eudocia  watched 
Romanus  Diogenes  enter  the  prison  by  Marmora. 

The  boy's  voice  broke  tremulously  on  her  ear, 
and  brought  her  back  to  him  again. 

"Mother  sweet — mother  sweetest,   if — if   great 


98  EUDOCIA 

Roinanus  loves  you,  don't  you  think  perhaps  it  is 
a  pity  to  kill  him?  Because — because,  if  you  kill 
a  great  general  when  he  loves  you,  all  the  rest  will 
feel  a  little  frightened — won't  they?" 

She  smiled,  and  seeing  she  was  not  angered,  he 
put  his  arms  round  her  neck  and  his  face  close  to 
hers. 

"Oh  forgive — forgive  him  just  this  once,"  he 
whispered.  "To  pleasure  me,  mother.  It's  far 
easier  to  forgive  than  you  might  think — I  know, 
because  Fve  tried  it!" 

She  cuddled  her  cheek  to  the  child's,  and  was 
happy  for  a  little  while. 

"You're  a  darling!"  she  said. 


CHAPTER     II 

THE  PRISON 


CHAPTER    II 

THE   PRISON 
§    1 

The  apartments  of  Romanus  Diogenes  in  the  State 
Prison  on  Marmora  stood  at  the  summit  of  a  great 
tower  that  sprang  directly  out  of  the  sea.  Under 
a  full  moon  the  waters  rippled  to  its  base,  breaking 
there  in  little  waves,  that  flashed  a  thread  of  silver 
along  the  stone.  The  living  chamber  had  been 
sombrely  furnished.  The  walls  were  frescoed  in 
tones  of  auburn  and  dusky  purple ;  upon  the  eastern 
side  hung  an  ikon  of  gold,  and  before  this  emblem 
was  suspended  a  lamp  in  a  ruby  glass.  Upon  a 
table  in  the  midst  stood  another  lamp  of  Greek 
workmanship,  the  oil  cup  and  wick  of  which  were 
carried  by  a  squat  Silenus  astride  a  wine-skin. 
Near  it  stood  a  large  brass  hand-bell,  a  book  or 
two,  a  beaker  of  red  wine  and  a  salver  containing 
grapes  and  figs.  A  couch  extended  against  one 
wall,  while  round  the  table  were  drawn  massive 
chairs.    The  window,  shooting  upward  in  three  tall 

101 


i02  EUDOCIA 

lancets,  was  uncovered,  and  the  lamplight  did  not 
serve  to  kill  illumination  from  the  moon,  which 
twinkled  in  the  clear  glass  and  flung  down  a  pat- 
tern of  light  upon  eastern  rugs  that  covered 
the  floor. 

Into  this  cage,  where  the  Governor  of  Thrace 
now  passed  his  waking  hours,  there  entered  three 
men,  to  find  it  empty. 

Two  were  wrapped  in  dark  cloaks  and  hoods, 
while  masks  concealed  their  features;  the  third, 
who  had  brought  them,  was  uncovered.  He  stood 
taller  than  the  visitors,  and  displayed  a  massive 
and  brawny  shape,  a  head  and  beard  of  Venetian 
red,  and  a  face  of  stern  aspect. 

Malthus,  Governor  of  the  State  Prisons,  had 
brought  these  persons  to  see  Romanus  Diogenes. 
They  came  armed  with  a  signed  mandate  from 
Michael  Psellus,  which  insured  their  admittance, 
though  Malthus  knew  them  not. 

"Where  is  he  now?"  asked  the  taller  of  the  two 
masked  men. 

"With  Bardas,  playing  chess,"  answered  the 
chief  gaoler  in  deliberate,  heavy  tones.  Then  he 
voiced  a  grievance. 

"Why  is  the  Patriarch's  brother  sent  hither? 
Does  Eudocia  doubt  me  that  this  poppinjay ?" 

The  stranger  spoke  again. 


THE  PRISON  103 

"It  is  her  whim  and  means  nothing.  He'll  soon 
be  gone." 

"Busy  fool!"  growled  Malthus.  Then  he  pre- 
pared to  depart.  "Bide  here  and  I  will  send 
Romanus  to  you,"  he  said,  and  so  left  them. 

Alone,  the  pair  removed  their  masks  and  threw 
off  their  hoods.  Then  the  Patriarch  addressed  his 
companion,  Michael  Psellus,  now  Prime  Minister. 
Xiphilin,  it  seemed,  had  something  to  confess,  and 
his  instinct  prompted  him  to  an  explanation  very 
needless  in  his  present  company. 

Psellus  and  he  were  come  in  secret  that  they 
might  win  the  fallen  general  with  a  lie;  and  while 
they  waited,  Xiphilin  touched  upon  the  ethical 
significance  of  their  deed. 

"Falsehood,"  said  he,  "still  labours  under  a 
stigma ;  and  it  is  well  that  it  should  be  denied  the 
herd.  But  what  say  the  Fathers,  Psellus?  They 
rightly  hold  that  it  be  permitted  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances. Thus,  if  a  sinner  stand  in  the  shadow 
of  death  and  damnation,  and  a  falsehood  will  se- 
cure his  life,  he  may  use  it,  that  his  days  shall 
be  lengthened  and  afford  him  time  to  repent  and 
save  his  soul  alive.  If,  therefore,  a  man  be  allowed 
to  speak  what  is  false  to  save  himself,  how  much 
more  shall  untruth  be  justified  when  employed  to 
save  the  soul  of  a  fellow  man?    For  our  duty  to 


104  EUDOCIA 

our  neighbour  is  to  love  him  as  ourself.  To  take 
a  higher  flight,  how  amply,  then,  is  the  falsehood 
privileged  that  would  save  the  State  and  the  count- 
less souls  depending  upon  its  security." 

"It  is  a  weapon  which  may  well  become  the 
patriot,"  replied  Psellus,  entertained  in  secret  that 
the  Patriarch  should  be  at  so  much  trouble  to 
present  his  conscience  spotless. 

But  Xiphilin  proceeded  to  a  profounder  con- 
sideration. 

"Indeed,  one  can  say  more,"  he  continued,  "and 
after  long  and  prayerful  pondering  upon  this  deep 
matter,  light  has  come  and  I  perceive  that  the 
question  of  the  origin  of  all  evil  is  to  be  explained 
in  very  direct  terms.  It  is  not  a  complicated  prob- 
lem, as  we  make  it  by  metaphysical  thinking,  but  a 
difficulty  that  yields  to  common  sense.  For  what 
can  be  more  elementary  than  the  fact  that  good  and 
evil,  even  as  light  and  darkness,  or  heat  and  cold, 
depend  upon  each  other?  Without  wickedness 
there  could  be  no  goodness  at  all;  without  false- 
hood, truth  is  an  empty  name.  Thus  operate  the 
categories  of  earth;  but  I  conceive  that  our  words 
'good'  and  'evil'  have  no  meaning  in  heaven,  or  hell, 
where  opposites  are  reconciled  by  the  absolute. 
Eternity,  Michael  Psellus,  lies  beyond  such  con- 


THE  PRISON  105 

cepts,  even  as  nature  lies  outside  them.  They  are 
but  the  scaffold  erected  by  human  consciousness, 
the  machinery  by  which  civilisation  and  the  great- 
est good  to  the  greatest  number  may  be  advanced, 
if  not  secured.  This  is  not  milk  for  babes, 
but  you  will  comprehend ;  and  it  follows  that  good 
and  evil  alike  are  merely  instruments  put  into  our 
human  hands  to  employ  with  wisdom  and  high 
purpose.  A  fool  can  be  trusted  with  goodness 
alone,  and  commanded  to  keep  within  its  limits 
for  the  common  weal;  for  evil  is  two-edged,  and 
only  to  be  employed  by  the  mighty  on  mighty 
occasions." 

"You  beat  the  air,"  answered  Psellus.  "Until 
man  has  agreed  what  is  good  and  evil — what  is 
right  in  itself  and  what  in  itself  is  wrong — the 
terms  are  as  easily  changed  and  exchanged  as  those 
we  apply  to  the  weather.  To-day  sunshine  is  good ; 
to-morrow  the  rain  makes  goodness  and  the  sun 
spells  starvation.  Our  task  is  to  win  Romanus 
Diogenes,  and  with  him  the  armies,  for  the  welfare 
of  the  State,  that  we  may  the  easier  empty  the 
throne  of  a  woman  whose  weakness  grows  danger- 
ous to  all.  That  done,  since  the  object  is  good,  any 
efficient  means  to  attain  it  must  also  be  good.  One 
does  not  seek  for  a  straight  stick  to  kill  a  snake 


106  EUDOCIA 

if  a  crooked  one  is  at  hand.  The  value  of  the  stick 
lies  in  its  power  to  kill  the  snake.  Who  can  af- 
firm what  is  spiritual  loss,  or  gain?  To-morrow 
gives  to-day  the  lie,  and  good  and  evil  are  only  the 
colours  on  a  chameleon  reflected  from  its  sit- 
uation." 

He  proceeded  to  the  present. 

"Did  you  see  John  Ducas  this  morning?" 

"I  did,"  answered  Xiphilin.  "He  grows  exceed- 
ingly fearful.  The  man's  a  coward,  but  cowards 
are  easily  controlled.  The  Caesar  is  pig-headed. 
Constantine,  his  brother,  was  the  like.  All  of  the 
race  of  Ducas  are  pious  and  obstinate." 

"To  make  him  follow,  believing  that  he  leads,  is 
no  great  task,"  answered  Psellus.  "As  for  this 
soldier  here,  we  must  edge  our  appeal  with  the 
abundant  love  of  life  and  freedom  that  belongs  to 
such  a  man.  Hell  be  impatient  of  this  stern  mew- 
ing up,  and  long  to  spread  his  wings.  He  does  not 
guess  how  formidable  his  strength  becomes." 

"His  ignorance  is  deluded  easily,"  replied  the 
Patriarch.  "Once  set  him  free  at  the  head  of  the 
armies,  owing,  as  he  will  think,  his  life  to  us,  and 
he'll  do  our  bidding  thankfully  enough  and  help  to 
make  the  Caesar  sure." 

Then  there  entered  Romanus,  soberly  clad,  his 
great  neck  and  beautiful  head  ascending  above  a 


THE  PRISON  107 

sad-coloured  trunk  and  hose,  that  served  to  reveal 
the  splendour  of  his  frame. 

Their  faces  were  turned  from  him,  and  he  spoke 
before  he  had  recognised  his  visitors. 

"Well,  my  blackbirds,  and  have  you  come  to  end 
it?  Has  she  been  merciless  and  denied  me  death 
in  the  open?" 

Then  the  Patriarch  and  Michael  Psellus  revealed 
themselves  to  the  soldier's  amazement. 

"Xiphilin — and  you!  Is  it  from  Eudocia  Au- 
gusta you  come?"  he  asked. 

"Happily  not,"  answered  the  historian.  "We're 
here  unguessed  by  all.  We  visit  you  for  reasons 
of  State  alone." 

Romanus  recollected  the  last  occasion  of  their 
meeting,  and  supposed  that  the  head  of  the  Church 
must  for  ever  be  his  enemy,  even  though  Psellus 
were  not. 

"The  Empress  knows  nothing  of  your  coming?" 
he  asked. 

"Nothing,  nor  shall  she.  Give  close  heed  to  us, 
Romanus  Diogenes,  for  your  existence  depends 
upon  it — and  far  more  than  that." 

The  listener  was  in  a  measure  reassured.  Had 
these  men  pretended  friendship,  he  must  have  been 
at  once  convinced  of  their  insincerity ;  but  that  they 
were  here  for  weightier  reasons  than  his  welfare 


108  EUDOCIA 

imparted  a  suggestion  of  truth  to  what  they  told. 
Yet  the  soldier  quickly  found  himself  doubtful,  for 
Psellus  cast  him  into  confusion.  Truth  and  un- 
truth to  his  ear  struggled  in  the  historian's  state- 
ment, and  the  lie  was  too  large. 

"Eudocia  has  made  decision,"  began  Psellus. 
"Her  judgment  was  swift,  but  her  sentence  on  your 
crime  is  in  its  nature  slow.  She  has  taken  your 
folly  in  a  spirit  that  you  might  have  foreseen  had 
you  known  the  Empress  as  well  as  we.  To-morrow 
you  are  to  die." 

"So  be  it  then,"  answered  the  culprit. 

"So  it  shall  not  be,"  replied  Michael  Psellus. 
"The  Church  and  State  alike  say  'no.'  Think  not 
it  is  the  man,  Romanus,  whom  we  are  here  to  save : 
to  pretend  so  would  be  to  insult  your  intelligence 
after  what  passed  at  Court.  But  you  are  a  soldier 
and  the  leader  of  these  hosts  now  quartered  in  the 
city.  You  are,  therefore,  a  very  needful  piece  in 
the  game  that  is  playing  now.  You  guard  more 
squares  than  you  guess  at,  and  your  destruction 
to-day,  at  the  gust  of  a  woman's  passion,  might 
breed  grave  and  far-reaching  disasters.  That,  in- 
deed, she  knows  well  enough ;  but  so  she  has  willed 
it,  setting  a  personal  revenge  on  your  mad  audacity 
above  the  call  of  the  hour." 


THE  PRISON  109 

"This  sounds  incredible  to  me,"  declared 
Romanus. 

"Nothing  is  incredible  where  woman  holds  the 
reins,"  replied  Psellus.  "Your  great  crime  has 
twisted  her  reason  somewhat  out  of  bias — a  thing 
easily  done — and  she  does  not  perceive  that,  though 
you  merit  death,  the  needs  of  the  time  demand 
your  freedom,  if  not  your  pardon." 

"A  tyrant,  Eudocia!" 

"That  is  she,  Romanus.  Her  nature  welcomes 
excuse  for  secret  cruelty,  and  her  fire  leaps  on  the 
just  and  unjust.  None,  indeed,  is  safe  until  a  man 
fills  the  throne  of  the  East  again ;  and  so  it  must  be 
filled,  for  our  design  is  to  lift  the  Caesar,  that  he 
may  share  sovereignty  with  youthful  Michael,  son 
of  Constantine.  In  your  power  it  lies  to  advance 
these  salutary  steps;  it  is  at  once  your  duty  and 
your  good  fortune  so  to  do,  for  thus  you  establish 
your  own  loyalty  to  the  house  of  Ducas,  and  secure 
the  highest  place  the  army  holds,  when  Caesar  shall 
be  Emperor.  And — if  that  counts — you  are,  by  the 
same  stroke,  quits  with  the  woman  who  now  means 
to  shed  your  blood." 

"What  has  Eudocia  willed  for  one  who  would 
have  died  for  her?" 

"Not  the  sword  of  the  Saracen.    You  are  con- 


110  EUDOCIA 

demned  to  be  burned  alive.  In  secret  you  will 
perish,  for  she  fears  the  Varangians.  Her  sentence 
is  devilish — a  pretty  sample  of  the  way  women  use 
their  feline  wits.  The  legions  are  to  be  hood- 
winked, and  when  you  die,  they  will  learn  that  you 
have  escaped  by  Marmora,  to  join  the  Seljouk 
Turks  and  fight  for  Alp  Arslan  against  the 
Empire." 

"Burned  alive!  Good  God  of  War!"  murmured 
Romanus.    "She  plotted  that  against  me?" 

Then  Xiphilin  spoke. 

"An  Empress  does  not  plot:  she  wills,"  he  an- 
swered. "I  love  you  not,  Diogenes,  for  you  are  a 
godless  animal;  but  since  the  statesmen  have  in- 
vited my  opinion  upon  your  threatened  doom,  I  am 
content  to  leave  your  life  in  the  Hand  of  an  out- 
raged Maker,  and  preserve  it  from  your  insulted 
Queen.  And  that  I  do,  believing  that  you  may  not 
only  serve  this  kingdom,  but  perchance  win  time 
to  remit  the  reward  of  your  own  blasphemies  by 
faithful  duty  done." 

Diogenes  regarded  them  silently,  almost  sul- 
lenly, for  a  moment,  while  they  waited  for  him 
to  speak. 

"I  saw  no  such  fate  in  her  eyes,"  he  said  at  last. 

"Women  can  train  their  eyes  to  lie  as  easily  as 


THE  PRISON  111 

their  tongues,"  answered  the  Patriarch.  "The 
truth  of  them  is  hidden  in  their  hearts — out  of 
men's  sight." 

"To  burn  alive  is  no  new  thing  to  me  neverthe- 
less," declared  Romanus. 

"Only  lack  of  imagination  prompts  to  flippancy 
at  such  a  moment,"  said  Psellus  impatiently.  "We 
are  not  here  to  bandy  words,  but  indicate  your 
peril  and  offer  salvation — at  a  price." 

"Yet  we  will  bandy  words,"  replied  the  soldier 
calmly.  "We  will  at  least  exchange  opinions,  for 
I  doubt  this  tale.  Eudocia  never  thought  to  torture 
me.  Her  record  is  not  hidden:  she  is  a  clement 
prince,  and  the  world  knows  her  to  be  merciful. 
Those  who  have  died  for  crimes  committed  since 
she  reigned  have  not  suffered  our  barbarous  mu- 
tilations or  devilish  torture,  but  perished  at  a 
stroke.  Not  she  would  burn  a  man  alive  .  .  .  you 
lie  to  me!" 

His  voice  rose  till  the  vault  of  the  stone  roof 
echoed. 

"Take  back  your  lie,"  cried  the  minister,  and 
Xiphilin  intervened. 

"Romanus,  it  is  to  your  credit  that  you  are  slow 
to  think  evil,  as  all  men  should  be;  but  in  thus 
seeking  to  doubt  of  Eudocia's  purpose,  you  accuse 


112  EUDOCIA 

those  who  would  befriend  you.  Be  not  so  foolish, 
for  what  is  your  fate  to  us  outside  the  mightier 
fortunes  hanging  upon  it?  If  you  perish,  the 
armies  run  out  of  hand,  and  something  not  far 
short  of  civil  war  appears  between  our  barbarian 
forces  and  the  city  troops.  You  know  who  would 
conquer — those  you  lead;  and  did  they  hold  Con- 
stantinople for  an  hour,  their  first  act  would  be  to 
avenge  your  destruction,  for  it  cannot  be  concealed 
from  them.  What  would  they  do?  Sweep  away 
the  brother  and  the  son  of  Constantine  like  straws ; 
and  so  you  die  traitor  to  the  late  Emperor.  But 
live  as  we  bid  you  live,  and  you  play  a  worthy  part 
to  the  dynasty.  Therefore  escape  this  night  and 
be  the  soldiers'  oriflame  again — a  force  for  right 
and  honour  in  this  distracted  Empire.  Your  head 
is  thick,  but  loyal,  Romanus  Diogenes.  Therefore 
use  the  brains  that  God  has  given  you,  and  lift  your 
own  fortune  to  its  desert." 

"There  is  no  dilemma  here  to  waste  two  thoughts 
upon — if  you  are  sane,"  added  Psellus. 

But  Romanus  withstood  them.  Upon  the  man 
of  letters  indeed  he  spent  no  more  speech,  but 
Xiphilin  he  answered  sternly,  and  left  no  doubt  of 
his  determination. 

"With  two  tongues  you  speak,"  he  answered, 


THE  PRISON  113 

"and  I  believe  neither  one  nor  t'other.  You  are 
hiding  truth,  and  you  are  not  here  to  serve  the 
sovereign,  but  to  advance  your  plot  against  her. 
I'll  keep  no  trust  with  you,  Patriarch." 

As  he  spoke  Bardas  entered  with  the  Governor  of 
the  Prisons. 

Xiphilin's  brother  exclaimed : 

"You  here — and  Michael  Psellus!"  he  cried  in 
evident  fear. 

Then  Romanus  thundered  his  gathering  rage. 

"Bid  them  begone,"  he  shouted.  "Despatch  them 
out  of  my  sight,  Malthus,  or  I  shall  forget  that 
they  are  old,  and  dash  their  heads  together!" 

"Holy  God !"  gasped  Bardas,  "do  you  know  who 
speak  to  you!" 

Xiphilin  drew  Psellus  away. 

"Come,"  he  said.  "Ours  the  familiar  reward  of 
well  doing,  ill  repute.    The  man  is  mad." 

He  turned  once  more  to  Romanus. 

"Think  better  of  it,  soldier,"  he  urged.  "Ask 
yourself  again  what  are  we  to  you?" 

"Rank  enemies  and  traitors  while  I  draw 
breath,"  replied  the  other. 

"Then  earn  your  fate,  noisy  fool,"  answered 
Michael  Psellus.  "Worse  than  fire  would  light  you 
down  to  Dis,  if  I  had  my  way." 


114  EUDOCIA 

Xiphilin  drew  his  angry  companion  aside. 

"We  need  waste  no  more  words  here.  Let  us 
seek  the  soldiery.  They  must  tear  him  out  of 
prison  against  his  will  if  it  can  be  done." 

In  a  moment  the  pair  were  gone,  and  through 
the  silence  that  followed,  Romanus  panted  like  a 
furnace  while  Bardas  and  Malthus  stared  at  him. 

"Dogs!  Mongrel  dogs!"  roared  Diogenes,  while 
Bardas  groaned. 

"Like  enough  you'll  die  for  this,"  he  said.  "My 
brother  knows  many  things,  but  never  how  to 
pardon." 

"A  rascal — a  cunning,  loathsome  rascal,  Bardas 
— a  traitor  to  heaven  and  earth,  I  tell  you !" 

"Hold  your  tongue,  man!  The  walls  have  ears. 
Your  strength  is  an  infant's  when  opposed  to  him. 
His  intellect  pierces  all  mysteries,  disarms  and 
crushes  all  foes.  He  has  the  first  brain  in  the 
Empire." 

"None  need  fear  a  knave,"  answered  Romanus, 
growing  more  calm. 

"All  will  soon  fear  Xiphilin,  and  for  very  good 
reason,"  replied  Malthus.  "He  has  now  chosen 
to  become  a  Statesman  and  handle  higher  matters 
than  the  Church.  A  time  is  coming  when  Xiphilin 
will  twist  this  nation  round  his  finger  like  a  ring; 


THE  PRISON  115 

and  they  who  bend  not  to  his  will  are  fated  to  be 
broken.    Nicephorus  knows  it." 

"Why  came  the  Patriarch  to  you,  Romantis?" 
asked  his  old  friend. 

"Unless  he  and  that  cursed  writer  lied,  I  die  to- 
morrow," answered  the  soldier.  "They  say  that 
she  has  willed  that  I  pay  for  fire  with  fire.  Because 
my  heart  burned  and  men  saw  the  flame,  now  must 
my  body  burn.  Yet  do  you,  who  know  her,  credit 
that?" 

"To  burn  you — oh,  monstrous  crime!"  cried 
Bardas,  "oh,  most  unqueenly  crime!  Yet,  if  they 
told  you  so,  it  is  true  enough.  God  pity  the  un- 
fortunate wretch  who  wakes  her  anger." 

"To  burn  alive!"  exclaimed  Mai  thus,  "that  was 
never  sentence  of  Eudocia's." 

He  left  them  then,  and  Romanus  continued. 

"I  looked  into  her  eyes,"  he  said;  "I  plunged 
into  their  steadfast  depths.  There  was  no  murder 
there." 

"But  trust  her  not  and  hope  nothing,"  urged 
Bardas.  "She's  a  most  ungrateful  woman — aye, 
and  cruel  as  hell.  Even  I  have  smarted  under  her 
scorn.  I  am  her  Protostrator,  as  you  know,  and  it 
is  pretty  generally  granted  that  never  monarch  had 
a  better.    The  world  acclaims  my  mastery  of  horse 


116  EUDOCIA 

and  hound,  and  all  things  pertaining  to  every  royal 
sport.  Nobody  has  the  wit  to  make  such  hunting — 
I  am  a  Mmrod;  and  on  horseback,  as  you  can  tes- 
tify, it  is  as  though  you  saw  a  centaur — man  and 
horse  one." 

"She  does  not  love  your  capers?" 

"She  is  cruel,"  repeated  Bardas.  "Not  only  be- 
fore my  official  accomplishments,  but  in  a  matter 
personal  and  sacred  to  myself.  I  am  espoused  to 
Theodora — the  first  confidante  and  favourite  of  the 
Empress.  They  were  children  together,  and  now 
that  girl  is  the  dayspring  of  my  life,  the  very  breath 
I  draw.  The  world  for  her  is  empty  without  me, 
and  we  pine  an  hour  apart.  Yet,  Eudocia,  well 
knowing  what  we  are  to  each  other,  cares  not  a  jot 
for  our  passion.  She  hates  love,  as  many  others  do 
who  have  not  tasted  it;  and  hating  love,  hates 
lovers  also.  Thus  your  case  is  the  blacker,  for  she 
will  neither  forgive  nor  forget  the  thing  you  did. 
She  has  a  heart  of  ice  under  her  affectation  of  sym- 
pathy. Indeed  I  think  she'd  banish  me  for  espous- 
ing Theodora,  if  she  dreaded  not  my  brother." 

"She  dreads  no  living  creature,"  answered 
Romanus.  "She  was  not  made  to  fear ;  but  terribly 
she  errs  to  drop  Nicephorus  now.  All  soldiers  know 
it.     Given  his  guile  and  craft  to  hold  back  the 


THE  PRISON  117 

Turks  a  few  months  longer,  while  we  made  haste 
to  build " 

"His  head  is  shaved,"  replied  the  sportsman. 
"He  has  become  a  priest.  He  is  very  calm,  and 
by  no  means  so  weary  of  life  as  you  might  suppose. 
He'll  much  lament  your  murder,  comrade,  for 
murder  it  will  be.  And  bitterly  I  shall  mourn  it, 
as  a  vital  loss  to  myself,  besides  a  disaster  for  the 
State.  We've  had  good  days  together,  Diogenes. 
I'm  somebody,  however — yes,  somebody,  thank 
God,  and  I  will  do  what  a  man  may  to-morrow. 
Eudocia  loves  my  betrothed,  if  indeed  she  loves 
anybody  but  herself,  and  Theodora  shall  plead  for 
you.  Her  voice  hath  a  quality  to  dissolve  a  flint. 
It  is  small,  yet  as  sweet  as  a  wood  dove's.  Oh,  what 
a  wicked  sin,  Romanus,  to  speak  slightingly  of  me 
in  Theodora's  ear!  She  stood  beside  the  Empress 
at  Court  when  you  were  tried.  I  marvel  you  did 
not  observe  her.  But  I  have  her  picture.  It  lives 
beneath  my  left  nipple,  as  near  my  heart  as 
possible." 

Bardas  drew  up  a  miniature  that  hung  round  his 
neck  upon  a  little  golden  chain. 

"She's  beautiful,"  admitted  the  other,  regarding 
Theodora's  radiant  features  where  they  smiled 
from  a  little  tablet  of  ivory. 


118  EUDOCIA 

"Far  lovelier  than  the  queen,"  declared  Bardas, 
"and  of  a  far  nobler  nature  and  spirit." 

He  restored  the  picture  to  his  heart,  and  made 
farewell. 

"I  shall  yet  storm  the  Court  for  your  life,  and 
flout  the  personal  peril  of  so  doing.  But  if  nought 
avail  against  her  and  my  terrible  brother,  then — 
then,  old  friend,  do  not  forget  me  and  Theodora 
when  you  come  to  Heaven." 

§  2 

Romanus  stood  for  a  little  while  when  the  prat- 
tler had  departed. 

"There's  a  lie  thrusting  its  poisonous  tongue  in 
my  affairs,"  thought  he.  "And  how  to  fight  a  lie 
with  both  hands  tied  behind  me — who  can  do 
that?" 

He  turned  from  the  table  and  went  to  the  win- 
dow. Moonlight  rained  silver  over  the  sea,  while 
far  away,  Prinkipos,  amid  the  Isles  of  the  Princes, 
rose  faint  and  dim. 

Here  stood  the  general  in  the  darkest  moment  of 
his  fortunes,  stunned  with  the  horror  of  what  he 
had  heard,  yet  hardly  believing  it,  while  in  his 
heart  burnt  a  new  and  strange  emotion.    Nothing 


THE  PRISON  119 

had,  indeed,  been  further  than  real  love  from  his 
mind  when  he  spoke  the  idle  words  that  now 
threatened  to  destroy  him;  but  since  they  were 
spoken,  since  he  had  actually  been  called  to  answer 
them  and  stand  before  the  wronged  Eudocia,  he 
was,  in  truth,  fired  by  a  fervour  of  passion.  Into 
his  virgin  heart  it  stormed  tempestuous  and  won- 
derful— the  revelation  of  woman;  but  it  was  seen 
and  felt  on  the  brink  of  his  grave,  where  now  he 
stood.  He  did  not  lose  all  hope,,  for  he  was  a  san- 
guine spirit;  but  his  ambition  rose  no  higher  than 
at  first:  to  die  at  the  head  of  his  armies.  What 
reaction,  and  what  impression  the  courage  of  him 
and  his  trenchant  speeches,  so  frank  and  free,  had 
created  within  the  mind  of  his  Empress,  he  did 
not  consider.  She  had,  indeed,  spoken  of  tortures, 
but  not,  he  remembered  until  he  himself  had  whis- 
pered of  kisses,  thereby  most  certainly  earning  the 
promised  flames.  Yet,  as  a  child  can  sometimes 
read  a  woman  better  than  may  a  man,  so  his  im- 
pression, that  his  Empress  bore  him  no  fatal  ill 
will,  was  not  mistaken.  He  clung  to  it  uncon- 
sciously. 

He  debated  with  his  eyes  on  a  little  ship,  that 
crept  dark-sailed  against  the  moonlight;  then 
Malthus  reappeared,  and  with  him  he  brought  a 


120  EUDOCIA 

stunted  creature  who  wore  a  dark  mantle  and  a 
peaked  cowl. 

It  was  Saurus,  who  carried  a  parcel  wrapped  in 
black  cloth. 

"What  tiny  man  are  you?"  asked  Komanus,  as 
the  dwarf  sat  down  panting,  after  traversing  many 
steps  with  his  short  legs. 

"One  that  yields  not  to  wealth,  nor  power,  nor 
beauty,"  answered  the  Lizard;  "and  being  so  sane 
is  naturally  called  lunatic." 

"Saurus,  the  poor  Court  dwarf,  has  come  with 
a  mandate,"  explained  Malthus. 

"Why  'poor/  you  red  ruffian?  What  in  your 
grim  lot  makes  you  pity  mine?  Dwarf — soldier — 
gaoler — are  we  not  the  self -same  earth?"  asked  the 
Lizard. 

"Yes — when  we  are  back  in  earth,"  answered 
Malthus;  "but  while  we  play  our  parts,  a  man  may 
pity  a  midget." 

"Why?  Where  is  the  special  privilege  to  stand 
six  feet  off  the  ground  and  groan  for  ever  under  the 
cares  that  are  demanded  of  so  much  humanity?" 

"They  are  a  part  of  manhood,  shrimp,"  answered 
Romanus.  "  ?Tis  a  sign  you  deal  with  a  man  when 
you  can  put  a  man's  burden  upon  his  back." 

"Or  a  camel,  when  you  can  load  it  with  a  weight 


THE  PRISON  121 

worthy  of  a  camel.  So  wags  the  world,  Diogenes. 
I  much  hate  work  and  yet  am  made  to  work,  while 
you,  hungering  for  detestable  toil,  are  denied  it  I 
sigh  for  peace;  you  think  only  of  wars.  Yet  I  am 
wrong  there,  for  if  you  had  dreamed  of  nothing  but 
your  business,  you  were  not  here  now.  And  yet  I 
am  wrong  again,  for  is  not  love  every  proper  man's 
business  at  least  once  in  his  life?" 

"As  for  peace,  little  fellow,  that's  a  taste  easily 
acquired,"  admitted  Romanus.  "But  only  if  you 
lack  ambition.  There  should  be  no  peace  when  you 
are  doing  man's  work — whatever  it  may  be.  Peace 
is  stagnation.  To  be  left  in  peace  is  to  be  slighted ; 
to  be  sent  to  peace  signifies  that  your  work  is  done. 
I'd  rather  use  my  life  than  waste  it." 

"Most  lives  are  wasted  in  the  using,"  answered 
Saurus.  "But  I'm  here  on  business,  great  general. 
There  is  a  festivity  at  Court  to-night,  and  a  swift 
chariot  waits  my  return.  I  bring  a  message  from 
Eudocia." 

"Happy  little  mite,  and  much  to  be  envied! 
What  is  her  blessed  will,  my  atomy?" 

"No,  no,  I  am  not  the  actual  messenger.  I  come 
only  to  prepare  his  way.  By  no  gate  does  he  ap- 
proach, nor  ask  the  leave  of  Mai  thus.  Here  are  the 
lad's  wings." 


122  EUDOCIA 

He  opened  his  parcel  and  dragged  out  a  rope- 
ladder  fashioned  of  ivory  and  silk. 

"This,"  explained  the  Lizard,  "must  be  lowered 
from  your  casement.  So  he'll  mount.  But,  look 
you,  make  it  fast,  for  the  boy  to  climb  it  is  one 
counted  very  dear  unto  the  Empress." 

"Is  there,  indeed,  a  lad  dear  to  her?"  asked 
Romanus. 

"Her  son,  Prince  Michael,  doubtless,"  said 
Mai  thus,  "but  surely  he ?" 

"Fear  not.  He  is  my  charge,  and  I'll  have  no 
pranks  in  the  moonlight  for  a  coming  king,  even 
though  a  rope-ladder  is  more  stable  than  a  throne," 
said  the  dwarf. 

"Do  I  hear  true,  that  I  must  die?"  asked  the 
prisoner. 

"As  true  as  you're  born,  soldier.  Mayhap  of 
her  imperial  mercy,  she's  sending  you  the  means 
to  quit  without  help  from  the  hangman." 

Romanus  took  the  ladder. 

"How  if  I  tarry  not  for  her  messenger,  and  use 
this  rope  to  take  my  leave  of  Mai  thus?"  he 
asked. 

The  red  man  laughed ;  but  he  did  not  fear. 

"That  costs  my  head,"  he  answered. 

"Nay,  this  gossamer  was  not  meant  for  a  man 


THE  PRISON  123 

elephant,"  answered  the  Lizard.  "Wait  in  peace 
and  sooner  trust  even  women  than  the  sea,  for  they 
have  hearts  sometimes:  Marmora  has  none." 

"Why,  if  indeed  it  is  so,  must  Eudocia  take  his 
life,  Lizard?"  asked  Mai  thus. 

"By  way  of  boon  if  that's  her  will,"  replied  the 
other,  "since  no  man's  happy  till  this  plaguing 
breath  is  out  of  him.  But  why  suppose  her  merci- 
ful? He  has  committed  notorious  crimes,  and  the 
Empress  perchance  knows  that  she  will  best  de- 
stroy him  by  using  him,  and  punish  with  life  in- 
stead of  death." 

"That  is  all  I  pray,"  declared  Romanus. 

"Then  more  fool  you,  for  all  your  six  feet  of  silly 
brawn.  You  dared  to  declare  love  and  she  was  the 
last  that  heard  of  it.  But  he  who  eats  figs  before 
they're  ripe  must  get  a  blistered  mouth,  great 
Diogenes,  even  though  he  be  as  good  and  beautiful 
a  piece  of  innocence  as  yourself.  If  I  were  she,  I'd 
devise  a  pretty  torment  for  you.  I  should  employ 
you  upon  a  task  so  difficult,  so  delicate,  so  cursedly 
dangerous,  that  death  itself  were  luxury  compared 
with  failure." 

"Are  these  her  purposes,  or  your  jest?"  asked 
the  general. 

"Our  royal  one  I  think  was  suckled  by  a  tigress," 


124  EUDOCIA 

answered  Saurus.  "She  is  terrible  when  she  is 
roused — terrible  and  swift.  The  Caesar's  growing 
bald :  that's  well  for  John  Ducas,  because  only  so, 
when  the  time  comes,  may  he  escape  shaving  in 
his  turn." 

"And  not  the  first  who  lusted  for  the  diadem 
and  found  a  tonsure  on  his  pate  instead,"  growled 
Malthus.    "But  you  talk  treason." 

"While  others  act  it,"  said  Romanus. 

"Shut  the  casement,"  continued  the  Governor  of 
the  Prisons,  "and  save  your  nostrils,  Marmora 
breathes  foul  in  her  sleep." 

The  ladder  had  been  lowered,  and  its  last  rungs 
were  lapped  by  the  wavelets  that  broke  a  hundred 
feet  beneath. 

"This  city  supplies  the  several  scents  and 
stenches  of  the  world,"  declared  Romanus.  "All 
that  are  sweet  and  all  that  are  sour  drift  through 
your  streets.  I  pant  for  the  open  marches,  Malthus 
— the  smell  of  woods,  the  fragrance  of  the  thyme 
and  mastic  and  myrtle — aye,  and  the  reek  of  flesh- 
pots  upon  camp-fires.  Your  city-bred  wretches 
know  not  even  the  savage  glory  of  hunger." 

"Life  is  but  fume  and  perfume,"  said  the  Lizard. 
"I  could  reduce  to  a  whiff  of  odour  everything  we 
call  existence,  and  reckon  life  in  terms  of  the  nose. 


THE  PRISON  125 

Keep  watch  by  the  casement,  prisoner.  A  black 
pinnace  with  a  golden  beak,  and  bank  of  twenty 
oars  at  midnight." 

"It's  midnight  now,"  declared  Malthus,  as  the 
dwarf  prepared  to  depart.  "Can  you  find  your 
way,  Lizard?" 

"My  way !"  cried  Saurus.  "Did  I  not  fester  here 
for  six  good  months,  and  waste  a  summer  with 
your  red  beard  for  telling  the  truth  to  Emperor 
Constantine  about  his  scholarship?  To  be  jester 
to  a  monarch  without  humour — what  a  fate!" 

He  was  gone,  and  Romanus  spoke  from  the 
window. 

"The  sea's  alive  with  little  ships  to-night,"  he 
said. 

"Pray  God  it  will  not  be  alive  with  enemy's 
triremes  before  the  Birth  of  Christ  comes  round 
again,"  answered  the  other.  Then  his  prisoner  pro- 
claimed an  approaching  pinnace. 

"Here  she  comes  like  a  black  dragon — tearing  a 
silver  line  through  Marmora!" 

Malthus  turned  to  the  window. 

"I  hate  these  silly  pranks,"  he  said.  "What  are 
doors  for?" 

"Windows  are  doors  if  the  Empress  wills. 
They're  here,"  answered  Romanus.     Then,  as  the 


126  EUDOCIA 

great  vessel  backed  her  oars  and  presently  drifted 
under  the  rope-ladder,  he  shouted  a  caution  to  an 
active  youngster  who  had  already  seized  it,  and  was 
preparing  to  ascend. 

"Have  a  care,  boy !  Go  slower — a  monkey  takes 
more  heed.  Steady — you've  got  a  mile  to  climb  yet 
before  you're  safe." 

He  kept  his  eye  on  the  small,  black  figure  ascend- 
ing, and  spoke  to  Mai  thus. 

"He's  swaying  like  a  spider  on  a  thread." 

The  Governor  of  the  Prisons  had  bent  from  the 
window. 

"A  royal  pinnace  sure  enough,"  he  grunted. 

"Leave  me  then  with  the  lad.  If  I  have  need  of 
you  I'll  summon  you." 

"No  craft,  Romanus?" 

"A  soldier's  word,  my  friend.  Well  you  know 
that  you  can  trust  me.  If  my  mistress  wills  me 
free,  you  shall  be  satisfied  of  the  order  before  I 
obey.    Go  rest  and  sleep." 

"  'Rest  and  sleep !'  "  growled  the  gaoler.  "How 
do  I  sleep  while  you  keep  this  sea-borne  company? 
Prisoners  sleep  better  than  those  set  to  watch 
them." 

A  face  appeared  at  the  window,  but  it  was 


.U. 


THE  PRISON  127 

masked  under  a  black  cap,  from  which  flashed  a 
solitary  scarlet  feather. 
Romanus  offered  his  hand. 


§  3 

As  Malthus  went  out,  the  climber  came  through 
the  window  and  leapt  to  the  floor. 

"Safe,  my  young  night-hawk,"  said  the  soldier. 
"A  mariner  must  you  be  to  climb  a  rope  like  that. 
I  feared  we  had  no  sailors  left." 

He  saw  a  slim,  neat  and  youthful  form  in  a 
page's  costume — all  black  and  close-fitting,  save  for 
a  purple  scarf  about  the  breast  and  the  feather  in 
the  cap.    More  than  that  he  saw. 

"Good  God  in  Heaven!"  he  cried,  then  he  fell, 
as  though  stricken  through  the  knees,  and  made 
obeisance. 

Eudocia  took  off  her  mask  and  flung  it  down 
impatiently. 

"How  did  you  know?"  she  asked.  "Saurus  told 
you,  and  shall  suffer  for  it." 

"Blame  him  not,  Majesty.  Your  eyes,  not  the 
dwarf,  told  me." 

He  rose  and  stood  before  her  with  bent  head. 


128  EUDOCIA 

"Can  eyes  speak?"  she  asked. 

"In  Persia  they  would  forget  the  sun  and  wor- 
ship them  if  you  were  there.  Have  I  not  seen  them 
already?    How  should  I  forget?" 

She  surveyed  him,  but  steadily  and  without 
suavity. 

"Guess  why  I  have  done  this,"  she  said,  and  he 
answered  that  he  could  not. 

"Because  I  want  to  look  at  a  man,"  she  declared, 
walking  to  a  chair  beside  the  table  and  flinging 
herself  into  it. 

"Are  there  no  men  at  Court,  Majesty?"  he  ven- 
tured, answering  her  dark  eyes  by  standing  to  his 
height  and  crossing  his  great  arms  upon  his  breast. 

"Did  you  see  any?  Nay,  you  need  not  pose  and 
strut,  Diogenes.  It  is  not  breadth  and  height,  nor 
bone  and  muscle,  that  build  men.  They  share  the 
stuff  they're  made  of  with  the  creatures  who  go  on 
pad  and  wing — more  beautiful  and  worthy  than 
human  kind.  Your  speech,  not  your  shoulders, 
proclaimed  you  a  man  to  me.    They  use  you  well?" 

"They  serve  me  well;  there's  only  one  can  use 
me,  Majesty.  That's  my  Queen ;  and  since  she  has 
deigned  to  fly  hither  by  night,  like  a  rare  migrant 
bird,  I  pray  her  to  let  me  speak,  and  then  she  shall 
learn  how  God  has  put  this  deed  into  her  royal 
brain." 


THE  PRISON  129 

"I  very  well  know  it  was  the  thought  of  my 
God,"  she  answered,  though  not  with  conviction. 

"And  why?  To  save  your  throne  against  two 
dark  rogues  who  plot  its  instant  downfall.  Do  you 
know  that  the  Caesar  aims  at  sovereignty?" 

"Poor  brother  John,"  she  replied,  almost  with 
pity.  "He  aims  at  nothing  higher  than  to  hide  his 
byzants,  save  his  vintage,  prosper  his  treasure  ships 
and  live  in  peace.  They've  thrust  this  upon  him  in 
the  name  of  righteousness,  to  gain  their  own  ends. 
His  terror,  not  his  conscience,  sides  with  them." 

"Since  you  have  willed  I  am  to  die,"  said  Ro- 
manus,  "again  I  implore  that  you  will  let  me  fall 
fighting  for  you  alone.  Grant  that  much,  Eudocia 
Augusta.  Waste  no  wood  on  me ;  faggots  are  better 
burned  to  cook  your  meat  than  roast  your  slave. 
Who  should  eat  me?  You  may  yet  need  the  sticks 
for  your  winter  hearth,  and  wish  them  back  again." 

She  puzzled  at  these  things. 

"Who  spoke  of  faggots?"  she  asked. 

'Tour  first  minister  and  his  Beatitude,  the  Patri- 
arch of  the  East.  They  seek  to  save  me  from  your 
avenging  hand  if  they  can." 

He  still  spoke  lightly,  for  his  heart  leapt,  and  he 
knew  that  he  was  saved.  More,  perhaps,  than  that 
he  knew,  yet  could  not  have  found  words  for  the 
dim  hint  of  such  a  revelation.    Indeed,  he  doubted, 


130  EUDOCIA 

even  while  a  conviction  slowly  took  shape  in  his 
bewildered  brain.  The  times  were  free  and  spa- 
cious. It  was  little  wonder  that  even  a  queen 
should  amuse  herself  in  secret  thus;  but  for  no 
prank  was  Eudoeia's  nocturnal  adventure  under- 
taken.   He  felt  convinced  of  that. 

"They  meant  that  you  should  thank  them  for 
your  life,  not  me,  and  for  gratitude  take  arms 
against  your  rightful  lord,"  she  said. 

"Let  me  sweep  their  heads  off  their  necks!"  he 
cried. 

"To  save  your  life  from  me,  who  thirsted  to  take 
it,  and  bring  you  to  your  soldiers,  that  you  might 
turn  your  blade  against  a  woman  and  drive  her 
down  into  darkness." 

"The  knaves  knew  me  not,"  he  answered.  "How 
should  they  know  soldierly  honesty  when  they 
saw  it?" 

"Some  might  weep  at  this,"  declared  Eudocia, 
looking  into  his  face.  "I  laugh,  for  the  net  they 
spread  is  doubtfully  strong  enough  to  catch  my 
feet." 

"Let  my  sword  cut  it,"  he  urged;  "bid  me  and 
my  legions  deal  with  these  traitors,  Majesty." 

"There  is  only  one  way  by  which  soldiers  can 
get  the  better  of  statesmen,  Romanus  Diogenes; 


& 


THE  PRISON  131 

and  we  have  not  reached  that  way  as  I  think. 
Nicephorus,  before  he  fell  from  grace,  warned  us 
that  they  of  our  own  household  were  our  foes. 
Would  that  we  could  have  trusted  him." 

"You  were  wrong,"  he  said. 

"How  do  you  dare  to  say  that  we  were  wrong?" 

"I  dared  to  love  you,"  he  answered.  "Little 
matter  else  what  I  dare.  You  were  deluded,  and 
will  terribly  err  to  destroy  him." 

She  considered.  Once  a  relenting  gleam  hovered 
on  her  mouth,  but  she  banished  it.  Then,  to  his 
joy,  she  became  personal. 

"Soldier,  you  were  a  fool,"  she  began.  "Not  first 
for  loving  me — that  was  your  own  mad  affair — but 
for  blazing  abroad  your  love  in  common  ears.  For 
that  I  well  may  punish  you.  Had  you  told  her 
most  involved — why  then,  at  least,  your  crime  had 
been  hidden  from  an  outraged  world,  and  she  might 
have  found  a  way  to  forgive.  How  can  she  now? 
What  do  you  know  of  love — a  being  dedicated  only 
to  war?" 

"Nothing  of  love  I  know,  save  that  I  love  you," 
he  answered.  "With  such  a  love,  Eudocia,  that 
giant  though  I  am,  all  made  of  steel  and  marble, 
my  knees  shake  while  I  stand  before  you." 

"Sit  then.    I  would  not  have  you  shake.    But  it 


132  EUDOCIA 

is  a  touch  of  ague  belike?  Our  city  breeds  fever  on 
summer  nights." 

"Not  ague  looses  my  joints  and  makes  them 
tremble  in  adoration,"  he  answered.  "When  I 
looked  on  your  divinity,  my  love  was  created,  for  I 
have  never  loved  a  woman  till  now.  It  sprang  out 
of  your  eyes,  broke  chrysalis  and  soared  as  high  as 
heaven's  gates  in  one  passionate  terrific  moment. 

At  a  flash,  being  so  near  I  saw "  he  stopped  and 

sighed. 

"What  did  you  see?" 

"The  ineffable." 

"Have  all  my  soldiers  such  flowery  tongues?" 
she  asked. 

"No  tongue  can  speak  what  I  saw  then,"  he  an- 
swered. "Yet  you  demand  to  know,  and  I  must 
strive  to  tell.  Behind  the  awful  symbols  that  you 
held,  beneath  the  crown  that  flashed  like  a  rainbow 
on  your  glorious  head,  I  saw — a  woman — the  first 
that  I  had  ever  seen  to  understand.  Then  the  rest 
was  as  nothing.  There  only  remained  the  fairest 
wonder  made  by  God  in  some  moment  of  supreme 
inspiration.  I  saw  the  dew  upon  her  lip,  the  violet 
deeps  of  her  eyes,  and  the  lashes  that  bent  to  wor- 
ship them;  and  I  saw  her  bosom  lifting  as  she 
breathed,  and  her  hands,  that  made  the  orb  and 


THE  PRISON  133 

sceptre  coarse  and  clumsy  against  their  heavenly 
workmanship.  And  I  knew  that  all  living  men 
must  love  and  adore  such  a  woman  though  they 
died  ten  thousand  deaths  for  it.  I  was  human, 
therefore  I  loved ;  and  my  heart  has  made  songs  of 
joy  and  thankfulness  ever  since,  that  it  should  have 
lived  to  love  before  it  ceased  to  beat. 

"And  still  I  adore  you,  with  a  passion  far  greater 
than  myself,  Eudocia — a  passion  so  immense  and 
immortal,  that  when  I'm  dead  and  gone  it  must  for 
ever  remain  and  haunt  your  royal  side  undying. 
Yea,  when  the  sunshine  breaks  a  cloud,  to  pour 
gold  upon  your  path ;  when  the  trees  whisper  and 
fold  you  in  their  murmurings;  when  the  birds 
break  into  sudden  song  of  worship  over  your  head ; 
or  when  some  stream  utters  its  liquid  music  at  your 
feet,  answering  your  unspoken  thought,  as  quiet 
waters  will;  then  know  henceforth,  the  light  and 
song  and  little  voices  are  Romanus." 

He  lowered  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  she  looked 
at  the  close,  curly  hair  under  the  lamplight. 
Unknown  to  him  she  shut  her  eyes  and  smiled  a 
moment ;  but  never  yet  had  he  seen  her  smile.  For 
a  few  seconds  she  did  not  reply,  then  answered, 
though  without  any  sign  that  he  had  interested  her 
save  by  his  statement  of  a  fact. 


134  EUDOCIA 

"You,  too,  found  a  woman  in  the  purple?  The 
Patriarch  made  the  same  sorrowful  discovery 
after  you  were  gone  to  your  doom.  And  harshly 
he  rated  me  for  daring  to  be  a  woman." 

"Unfinished  wretch !" 

He  stretched  out  his  arms  over  the  table 
until  they  nearly  touched  Eudocia.  She  looked 
down  upon  his  beautiful  hands,  palm  upward,  ex- 
tended towards  her. 

"Light  of  Heaven!  when  you  came  to  be  the 
Empress,  did  you  cease  to  be  a  woman?" 

For  the  first  time  her  voice  shook,  and  she  could 
not  trust  her  eyes;  but  she  escaped  by  pretending 
mirth. 

"You  are  finding  out  as  quickly  as  you  can,"  she 
said.  "Rash  boy,  you  should  be  trembling,  instead 
of  which  you're — you're  making  love  to  me." 

"Love!  Think  it  not,"  he  answered.  "This  is 
but  humble  talk  between  a  slave  and  his  Queen.  If 
I  made  love,  I  should  make  it  as  I  make  war, 
Majesty.  I  should  not  twitter  then,  or  coo  like  a 
turtle.  I  could  never  mince  and  ape  and  dance 
about  a  woman.  The  she  that  I  loved  would  soon 
find  herself  in  a  whirlwind.  But  now  my  fires  can 
never  burst  to  flame.    I'm  modest,  meek — a  peni- 


THE  PRISON  135 

tent  at  your  footstool.  I  speak  upon  deaths  cheer- 
less brink.  I  loved  a  memory  first — a  dream,  re- 
member— the  dream  of  you  beside  my  dead  lord. 
But  now  I  love  reality  and  am  dumb." 

Then  suddenly  he  heard  her  laugh — like  a  chime 
of  bells. 

"If  this  is  to  be  dumb — God  help  those  who  hear 
you  chatter,"  she  said. 

But  he  shook  his  head,  and  in  his  turn  preserved 
solemnity. 

"Speak  yet  again,"  she  said,  and  he  obeyed,  but 
dared  not  share  her  mirth. 

"I  am  a  ghost  already,  and  with  a  hollow  voice  I 
tell  the  dangers  which  I  may  not  share,  and  from 
which  I  may  not  shield  you." 

But  in  his  soul  he  began  to  know  better  now. 
She  also  knew  that  he  comprehended. 

"Proceed — if  I  must  hear,"  she  said ;  "and  banish 
your  melancholy:  I  have  enough  of  hollow  voices 
and  hollow  heads  at  Court.  Let  me  win  something 
from  this  adventure  that  I  could  not  have  won 
without  it." 

Romanus  took  the  hint. 

"Your  clothes,"  he  explained.  "What  infinite 
peril — what  insensate  risk!     There's  not  a  single 


136  EUDOCIA 

woman  in  all  the  city  but  would  hunger  to  kiss  such 
a  paragon  of  pages  !" 

"I  love  my  black,  and  often  don  it  on  moony 
nights,"  she  answered.  "It  was  a  thought  I  had, 
to  play  at  being  free  sometimes.  A  queen  should 
see  her  subjects  close — in  their  homes  if  she  can — 
even  when  the  homes  are  prisons." 

"What  say  you?  'To  play  at  being  free?'  Are 
you  not  free  as  air?" 

"I  free?  The  men  cooling  their  heels  in  the  pin- 
nace and  cursing  my  delay  are  freer  than  Eudocia. 
You  are  more  free  than  I." 

"Who  then  is  free  on  earth?"  he  asked,  and  her 
gleam  of  happiness  faded. 

"The  Patriarch.  With  him  lies  the  supreme 
power  in  Constantinople  now.  His  chains  are 
heavier  than  mine ;  all  the  vital  secrets  of  the  State 
are  in  his  brain  alone.  Already  there  is  much 
hidden  from  me,  though  not  what  they  design  for 
me.  And  now,  through  all  this  far-flung  realm 
there's  not  a  man,  Romanus,  to  defend  my  right 
and  challenge  Xiphilin.  Not  one,  I  say,  and  I  dare 
you  to  deny  it.  I,  who  might  have  done  so  much 
with  manly  aid!  We're  sinking  into  nothingness, 
soldier;  we  shut  our  eyes  to  the  movement  and 
progress  of  the  world,  nor  is  there  anything  alive 
and  precious  in  us  to  compensate  for  the  loss  of 


THE  PRISON  137 

power.  Our  Art  is  dead ;  our  Science  is  dead ;  our 
Letters  never  lived." 

"They  had  no  chance  to  live,"  he  answered.  "We 
substitute  for  books  the  homilies  of  monks,  and 
condemn  as  false  to  Christ  all  that  wise  men 
thought  and  told  us  before  Christ  came.  But  to 
know  our  evils  and  to  see  them  evil  is  a  brave  step 
to  curing  them,  Majesty." 

She  brightened  again. 

"How  closely  we  agree,  Romanus!  I  have  often 
wondered,  did  fortune  lead  me  to  a  man,  whether 
he  would  see  eye  to  eye  with  me." 

"You  living  light !"  he  cried.  "You  jewel  of  the 
world,  speak  no  more  of  lost  liberty  to  me.  You 
are  omnipotent  and,  had  I  lived,  my  eyes  had 
seen " 

"Why  so  much  set  on  death?"  she  asked. 

"Not  I:  it  is  you  who  are  set  upon  my  death," 
he  answered. 

She  made  a  show  of  weighing  the  problem  still. 

"My  little  son  told  me  that  you  should  be  par- 
doned. He  said  that  if  I  slay  a  great  general  for 
loving  me,  the  others  may  grow  anxious.  To  let 
you  live  because  you  love  me — is  that  enough  to 
make  your  life  worth  living?  Just  to  love — love 
from  afar,  and  labour?" 

"It  is  enough.    Thankfully  I'll  live — live  to  teach 


138  EUDOCIA 

the  nation  to  fight  for  you ;  live  to  make  your  people 
bless  and  your  enemies  fear;  live  to  right  your 
wrongs  and  exalt  your  glories." 

"And  what  the  price  of  labours  so  gigantic?"  she 
asked,  and  he  lost  his  opportunity,  being  for  the 
moment  blinded  by  promise  of  liberty  and  his  own 
ruling  passion. 

"Leave  to  perform  these  things  is  payment  rich 
and  rare,"  he  answered.  "I  pant  for  the  field, 
knowing  our  daily  loss  and  the  gathering  contempt 
of  our  weakness  that  will  nerve  the  arm  of  your 
foes  when  we  do  meet.  The  Turks  laugh  at  us  in 
the  heart  of  Phrygia,  Majesty.  So  loaded  are  they 
from  our  treasuries  that  their  women  carry  their 
spears  and  swords,  leaving  men's  hands  for 
weightier  things.  But  give  me  the  power  and  I'll 
drive  them  beyond  Euphrates  at  a  breath  and,  with 
my  second  wind,  deliver  all  Armenia.  It  can  be 
done  even  now." 

She  brought  him  back  to  herself. 

"Queens  there  have  been — brave,  wedded  queens 
who  went  to  war,"  she  said. 

"Such  glorious  women  braved  vast  perils  and 
bore  themselves  the  guardian  angels  of  their 
armies,"  he  answered. 

"I,  however,  may  not  wed,  Romanus." 


THE  PRISON  139 

"Let  me  but  hear  the  name  of  man  linked  with 
your  own,  and  he  shall  die  by  this  hand !" 

She  flashed  at  this,  but  it  was  only  sheet 
lightning. 

"Who,  then,  are  you  to  roll  your  eyes  and  claim 
the  right  to  jealousy?"  she  asked.  "What  if  I  love? 
How  can  any  woman's  heart  beat  bravely  on  if  it 
be  empty?  Must  the  mightiest  in  all  the  East  be 
also  the  loneliest?  Have  I  no  skill  to  love,  think 
you — I,  who  could  love  grandlier  far  than  any 
woman  I  have  ever  seen,  aye — and  be  as  big  a  fool 
as  any  maid  over  some  stupid  man?" 

"A  stupid  man,  Majesty!" 

"A  stupid,  idiot  of  a  man,  if  I  say  so.  Are  not 
all  men  stupid?" 

"Eudocia  Augusta  could  never  love  a  dolt,"  he 
assured  her. 

"Tell  me  the  measure  of  a  man  I  might  love 
then." 

He  considered,  and  was  honest  with  his  ideal. 

"One  fearless  in  thought  and  act;  one  not  un- 
comely and  worthy  to  stand  by  such  an  Empress — 
a  man  who  loves  the  realm  only  less  than  he  loves 
you.  Against  the  heart  of  such  a  hero  you'd  be 
lonely  no  more,  Eudocia ;  but  he  must  be  a  man  of 
huge  patience  and  self-control,  of  a  sound  judg- 


140  EUDOCIA 

ment,  and  a  living  force  in  world  affairs.  A  states- 
man and  soldier  both  should  he  be ;  and  since  few 
are  such,  then  let  him  prove  modest  enough,  wise 
enough,  to  court  the  ablest  men  and  make  them 
serve  both  you  and  him — not  for  fear,  but  loyal 
love.  At  home  your  husband  should  be  such  an 
emperor;  and,  when  he  took  the  field,  the  nation's 
light  and  saviour.  And  higher  yet,  above  all  else 
that  I  have  named,  he  must  be  one  of  honour  un- 
spotted, to  stand  with  a  single  heart  and  pure 
before  his  God." 

She  bowed  her  head,  rejoicing  to  hear  him  speak 
thus. 

"Even  such  a  man  is  within  my  eyes,  Romanus," 
she  declared  after  a  moment's  silence.  Then  she 
lifted  her  face  and  regarded  him  steadily. 

"Within  your  eyes?"  he  echoed,  rather  blankly. 
"Where  is  there  such  a  man?" 

"Look  in  them  and  find  him,"  she  said. 

He  leapt  to  his  feet  panting. 

"I  such  a  man,  Divine  One?" 

"And  more  and  more  than  that !"  she  cried. 

"Dayspring  of  Light  P'  swore  Romanus  almost 
glaring  upon  her. 

But  she  held  up  her  hand. 

"And  yet  I  fear,"  she  said. 


THE  PRISON  141 

"Call  it  not  back,  call  it  not  back !"  he  implored. 
"Let  the  blessed  words  remain,  my  morning  star  !" 

"A  queen  alone  of  all  unhappy  women  must 
confess  love  if  she  feels  it,  since  no  subject  dare," 
explained  Eudocia  calmly.  "And  so  we  lose  a  joy 
our  humblest  fellow  women  command  by  right — to 
hear  themselves  entreated.  But  I  blame  you,  and 
you  must  heed  me.  It  was  no  sign  of  greatness  not 
to  know  your  greatness.  I  liked  you  far  better  as 
my  fearless  prisoner  at  Court.  The  minds  are  only 
second-rate  that  undervalue  their  own  gifts — dear 
heart." 

"Not  for  me  to  question,  Majesty,"  he  answered. 
"I'll  never  doubt  my  genius  again." 

"What  then?"  she  asked. 

"You  know." 

"  'Fearless;'  you  said — 'fearless  in  thought  and 
act.' " 

"I  love  you." 

"  'Against  the  heart  of  such  a  hero  you'd  be 
lonely  no  more.' " 

"Come  to  it  then!" 

She  approached  him;  but  he  knew  the  tremen- 
dous strength  of  his  arms,  and  was  gentle. 

"All  that  I  have  shall  be  dedicated  to  you, 
glorious  love,"  he  whispered.    "My  hand,  my  brain, 


142  EUDOCIA 

my  soul.  I  will  be  your  lightning  to  let  loose  on 
the  round  world — your  sword,  your  shield,  your 
adoring  lover  too." 

She  shut  her  eyes  and  was  silent  a  moment  in  his 
embrace,  then  put  him  away  and  sank  into  a  chair 
by  the  table. 

"Love  is  a  perilous  glory,"  she  murmured,  hold» 
ing  her  hands  over  her  breast.  "Your  awful  fire  is 
beating  at  my  heart,  Komanus;  I  hear  the  music 
of  the  flames — I  hear  them,  I  hear  them." 

He  knelt  beside  her,  but  did  not  touch  her  again. 

"This,  then,  is  heaven,"  he  said.  "They  are 
right  who  tell  us  a  man's  heaven  is  of  his  own 
making." 

"I  burn  you !    The  torch  is  yours." 

"Wed  me,  Eudocia,  and  the  earth  will  lie  van- 
quished at  our  feet.  No  power  can  withstand  us 
two." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"My  oath — my  sacred  oath,  Romanus." 

"Bid  me  throw  St.  Sophia's  to  the  earth,  and 
tear  the  parchment  out  of  your  accursed  Patri- 
arch's hands." 

"  'He  must  be  one  of  honour  unspotted,  with  a 
single  heart,  and  pure  before  his  God.'" 

"Is  it  unclean  that  we  set  out  to  sweep  away  the 


THE  PRISON  143 

unclean?"  he  asked.  "Let  this  oath,  spawned  from 
callous  craft,  be  vanquished  and  annulled.  Make 
me  the  minister  of  righteous  Heaven  to  free  you." 

"  'Heaven  helps  the  wisest,'  so  said  Nicephorus," 
she  answered.  "Are  you  wise  as  well  as  brave,  my 
treasure?" 

"He  was  wisdom,  light,  and  air  to  you.  And 
therefore  the  rats  and  beetles  hated  him  and  strove 
for  his  destruction." 

"My  Michael  loved  him  too,  Romanus.  Infancy 
has  subtle  senses  that  adolescence  loses.  I  begin 
to  fear  that  I  did  a  great  wrong  to  cast  him  down." 

"They  did  the  wrong,  not  you ;  but  you  can  right 
the  wrong.  Oh,  my  love,  my  crown,  my  glory,  call 
him  back  to  serve  you  yet.  He  is  here — at  hand 
— under  this  roof.  Awaken  him — bid  him  come  to 
you  and  hear  this  world-shattering  thing  that  has 
happened  to  us." 

"He  will  not  forgive  me,  Romanus.  He  can- 
not," answered  Eudocia ;  but  the  man  felt  no  fear 
on  that  account. 

"He'll  not  forgive  you,  because  he  never  blamed 
you.  He  understood  that  you  had  no  choice.  His 
philosophic  mind  works  with  that  large  wisdom 
given  to  the  old,  who  still  can  laugh.  He  has  no 
illusions  and  yet  enjoys  the  full  tide  of  life.    His 


144  EUDOCIA 

thoughts  are  ever  upon  his  Empress.  Last  night 
we  played  at  chess,  and  he  declared  the  game 
greater,  because  purer,  than  war  or  politics." 

"Who  won?"  asked  she. 

"Nicephorus  did,"  admitted  Romanus — "not, 
however,  very  easily.  I  kept  forgetting  everything 
but  the  Queen." 

"Summon  him  then,  since  you  command." 

"I  entreat;  I  do  not  command.  He's  shrewder 
far  than  Psellus,  subtler  than  Xiphilin,  honester 
than  either.  They  would  never  have  risen  to  face 
a  fallen  fortune  as  this  man  has  done.  So  big  he 
is,  that  he  makes  his  fate  look  small." 

Romanus  struck  the  bell  upon  the  table,  while 
Eudocia  declared  that  she  hoped  little  from  her 
fallen  minister. 

"Men  are  at  their  worst  wakened  from  sleep," 
she  feared.  "He  will  be  dull  and  slow.  Shall  I 
reveal  myself?" 

"That  you  cannot  fail  to  do :  he'll  know  you  fast 
enough,"  promised  the  soldier. 

§  4 

When  Malthus  entered,  Eudocia,  who  had  re- 
sumed her  mask,  addressed  him. 

"Nicephorus,    the    fallen    minister,    must    now 


THE  PRISON  145 

attend  Romanus  here.  Brook  no  excuse.  If  he 
sleeps,  waken  him.  I  come  from  Court  on  urgent 
matters." 

The  Governor  was  in  bad  humour. 

"No  doubt,  my  chatterbox.  Since  when  has  the 
Empress  chosen  to  send  urgent  matters  by  Hop-o'- 
my-Thumb  through  windows?" 

"Hasten — hasten,  Malthus,  good  friend.  Every 
moment  is  precious,"  declared  Diogenes ;  and  when 
the  other  had  departed,  Eudocia  turned  in  triumph. 

"He  knew  me  not,"  she  said. 

"Nicephorus  must." 

"I'll  wager  he'll  never  guess,"  she  answered. 

"What  will  you  wager?" 

But  then  her  animation  waned. 

"Nay,  we  must  be  serious,  for  I  see  no  hope,  my 
brave  one.  What,  after  all,  can  he  do  that  we 
cannot  think?  Our  love  is  crossed  and  counter- 
crossed.  It  is  marred  by  many  dark  and  fatal 
stars,  Romanus." 

"We  will  forge  our  own  fate,  not  leave  it  to  the 
spinning  of  distant  stars,"  he  vowed.  "You  are 
my  star  and  I  am  yours.  Let  the  rest  grow  pale; 
I  do  not  fear  them." 

"Twin  stars — you  and  I — to  circle  lovingly,  yet 
never,  never  meet,"  she  sighed. 

"Such   love   as   ours  will   crush   the  obstacles 


146  EUDOCIA 

between,  for  it  is  mightier  far  than  they,"  he  an- 
swered. "Do  you  not  feel  unconquerable?  Your 
love  would  make  a  mouse  a  hero ;  then  what  shall  it 
make  of  me?  Rest  sure  that  soon  we  shall  blaze 
together  in  one  united  orb  of  power.  Read  only 
that  in  the  stars,  Divine  One." 

And  then  Mcephorus  appeared.  He  wore  a  long 
close  gown,  with  sandals  upon  his  feet,  and  his 
white  head  bore  the  tonsure.  He  yawned — a 
drowsy,  old  man,  wakened  out  of  slumber. 

"What  now,  Romanus?  Is  not  noon  of  night 
sacred  to  these  ancient  bones?"  he  asked. 

"Here's  one  full  of  weighty  secrets — a  messenger 
direct  from  Eudocia  Augusta,"  declared  Romanus. 
"He  wills " 

Then  the  Queen  interrupted  him. 

"Nicephorus  must  hear  me,"  she  said. 

At  her  voice  the  old  man  started  and  did  instant 
obeisance,  while  Romanus  smiled. 

"Would  I  had  made  that  wager,"  he  whispered. 

The  fallen  minister  drew  his  gown  about  him. 

"I  am  in  no  case  for  audience,"  he  murmured, 
now  wide  awake  enough. 

"How  did  you  know  me?"  she  asked.  "Your  eyes 
are  dull  with  sleep,  you  yawned  in  our  faces." 

"But  my  ears  are   quickly  wakened,   Majesty. 


THE  PRISON  147 

Your  voice,  like  our  cathedral's  silver  bell,  has  a 
note  that  once  heard  we  do  not  forget." 

She  took  off  her  mask  and  faced  him. 

"I  am  here  to  beg  your  forgiveness,  Nicephorus. 
Is  it  mine?" 

"There  is  nothing  to  pardon,  Majesty,"  he  an- 
swered. "Effect  must  follow  cause.  I'm  not  too 
far  gone  to  know  that." 

"Then  we  three  are  friends,"  she  declared ;  "and 
we  two  command  you,  implore  you,  sustain  and  help 
us  in  this  great  moment,  with  the  past  forgiven." 

"Poor,  patient  past!"  he  said.  "May  it  forgive 
mankind  as  willingly,  for  we  need  the  past's  for- 
giveness often  enough." 

Then  he  turned  to  impatient  Eudocia. 

"But  you  have  shaved  my  head,  Majesty." 

"The  brains  are  in  it  still,. Mcephorus." 

"An  ancient  head  should  be  kept  warm." 

"Nay — brains  are  better  cold.  We  need  a  brain 
of  ice  and  steel.  Romanus  Diogenes  and  I  are  one 
now — one  in  heart  and  hope — and  love.  Such 
things  will  happen  to  a  woman,  Nicephorus.  And 
well  I  know  they  do  not  happen  without  the 
Almighty  will  them.  There's  only  you  to  trust. 
You  are  our  pharos  above  the  storm  that's  brewing, 
the  last  of  the  tradition — all  vanished  now,  but  you 


148  EUDOCIA 

— that  gave  us  half  the  world.  You  must  return; 
you  must  come  back  to  me  before  it  is  too  late. 
The  Caesar's  being  driven  to  the  throne  like  a  sheep 
to  the  slaughter;  the  soldiers  shout  and  roar  for 
my  Romanus." 

"Is  there  no  later  news  from  Court,  Majesty'. 

"I  have  told  you.  We  love — this  man  and  I  are 
one  henceforth,  to  breathe  and  see  and  think  and 
act.     That  is  the  stupendous  event." 

Mcephorus  regarded  them  with  deep  respect. 
But  he  said  nothing. 

"Sit  here  between  us  and  speak  to  us;  cheer  us, 
encourage  us;  say  this  is  good  that  I  tell  you," 
entreated  Eudocia.  "You  should  rejoice  to  know 
that  I  am  happy.  You  must  be  happy  too, 
Mcephorus,  and  use  your  mighty  wits  to  make  us 
safe,  as  well  as  happy." 

"Farewell,  Mount  Athos!"  exclaimed  the  old 
man,  half  to  himself.  "So  fate  is  no  respecter  of 
persons,  and  would  pick  me  out  of  her  play-box 
again — to  make  another  game  for  the  gods." 

He  took  a  chair  beside  the  table,  while  the  Em- 
press reclined  at  his  right  hand,  and  Romanus  sat 
upon  the  table  at  his  left.  For  a  moment  there 
was  silence,  then  Nicephorus  addressed  them. 

"Man  and  woman,  you  stand  upon  a  precipice," 


THE  PRISON  149 

he  said.  "Therefore  look  back  and  hear  me  pa- 
tiently awhile.  When  first  the  Greek  was  driven 
to  ally  himself  with  Rome  he  was  free  still.  But 
soon  he  cringed,  for  most  of  his  heroes'  blood  was 
drained  away,  and  lost  his  honours,  until  Vespasian 
laughed  at  him,  taunted  him,  and  truly  said  that 
he  had  forgotten  how  to  be  free.  Severus  threw 
all  down ;  Caracalla  built  up  again,  after  a  fashion. 
Then  came  Gallienus  and  put  us  to  the  sword  once 
more.  But,  like  a  shorn  hayfield,  we  sprang  from 
under  the  steel,  until  in  splendour  rose  Constan- 
tine's  city  on  Byzantium's  ruins.  Our  past  mocks 
our  present,  and  our  story  sounds  the  echo  of  an 
echo.  It  tells  one  tale:  our  good  and  evil  came 
from  our  own  virtues  and  vices.  Therefore,  first 
estimate  the  quality  of  them  you  call  your  people." 

"The  people  are  black  cowards.  One  laughs  at 
them  for  fear  one  should  spit  on  them,"  said  the 
soldier. 

"None  save  an  idiot  laughs  at  human  nature, 
Romanus  Diogenes.  Satire's  self  is  but  a  small  and 
fruitless  cleverness.  The  scourge  cures  no  wounds, 
and  satire  has  little  excuse  since  the  Saviour  of  all 
could  don  flesh  and  dwell  amongst  us.  Men  are 
black  and  white  upon  the  surface  only.  A  hero  and 
a  coward  may  jog  in  one  skin  and  chance  alone 


150  EUDOCIA 

decide  which  part  the  man  is  known  by.  Even  as 
the  sun  itself,  the  noblest  nature  will  often  suffer 
most  absolute  eclipse.    What,  then,  is  the  Greek?" 

"The  Greek  is  indeed  two  men  rolled  in  one," 
admitted  Romanus. 

"Nay;  he  is  three,"  declared  the  Empress.  "I 
love  him,  but  I  have  often  found  that  he'll  tell  one 
story  with  his  tongue,  while  his  mind  plots  a  sec- 
ond, and  his  act,  when  he  is  driven  to  action,  may 
accord  neither  with  speech  nor  thought.  We  need 
to  create  character  and  singleness  of  purpose  and 
make  our  people  trustworthy." 

"To  create  character — a  royal  wish,"  said 
Mcephorus.  "But  for  enduring  achievement  the 
material  should  be  fine.  'Unstable  as  water,  he 
shall  not  excel., " 

"Then  Eudocia  Augusta  must  mix  the  magic 
wine  of  her  spirit  with  that  water !"  cried  Romanus. 

"Good.  But  listen  first — here  on  the  threshold 
of  your  tremendous  adventure.  A  priest  may 
preach.  She's  at  the  summit  now,  and  all  ways 
that  lead  therefrom  are  downward." 

"I'll  stop  upon  the  summit  then,"  answered 
Eudocia.  "Justinian's  Empress  said  that  a  throne 
was  the  most  glorious  of  sepulchres.  I  will  reign 
on  it,  or  die  on  it." 


THE  PRISON  151 

"Are  you  sure,  Majesty,  that  it  is  worth  the 
sleepless  and  eternal  pains?  The  throne  has  ever 
been  a  precarious,  slippery  perch  in  our  Byzan- 
tium, and  the  royal  bird  a  mark  for  many  fowlers, 
being  still  a  sort  of  master  prize  for  the  sons  of 
men  to  gambol  on.  Quit  it  and  you  enjoy  a  peace 
of  mind  denied  to  monarchy;  but  cleave  to  it  and 
policy  must  ever  fight  at  odds  with  conscience  in 
such  a  heart  as  yours." 

Eudocia  displayed  some  indignation. 

'Would  you  have  me  slink  from  my  destiny  for 
'peace  of  mind'?"  she  asked.  "That  peddling  ideal 
of  shopkeepers  and  citizens  offers  no  charm  for 
the  Empress  of  the  East." 

"Power  is  the  last  temptation  of  greatness," 
answered  the  old  man,  "and  the  lust  of  it,  like  a 
false  dawn,  will  often  hoodwink  and  deceive  the 
sharpest  eyes." 

"Are  you  turned  monk  inside  as  well  as  out, 
Mcephorus?"  asked  Eudocia  blankly. 

"Fear  must  be  your  companion,"  he  continued; 
"sleeping  and  waking  the  infamy  of  the  infamous 
hangs  heavy  upon  your  pillow,  till  the  story's  told 
in  one  more  drop  of  blood  on  the  scroll  of  our  grim 
history." 

"Thou   ancient  coward!"   exclaimed   Romanus. 


152  EUDOCIA 

"Was  it  for  this  the  Empress  called  you  back  to 
her?" 

But  Eudocia  knew  Nicephorus  better  than 
Diogenes.  It  was  his  custom  to  paint  the  gloom 
of  any  picture  first  and  come  gradually  to  the 
brighter  passages. 

"Enough!"  she  said.  "We've  heard  the  monk 
until  we  are  weary  of  him.  Let  him  return  to  his 
former  trade  and  be  our  dearest,  first  and  best  of 
ministers.  The  hooting  of  an  owl  is  no  sound  for 
lovers'  ears." 

Nicephorus  smiled. 

"I'm  Empress  and  remain  so,"  she  continued. 
"I'll  reign,  though  my  realm  is  desolation,  and 
dust  and  ashes  all  I  have  left  to  rule.  I  will  reign, 
Nicephorus,  and  I  will  love ;  and  fear  shall  not  dare 
to  keep  me  company,  for  love  casts  out  all  fear. 
My  heart  I  give  into  the  keeping  of  this  man;  my 
soul  rests  where  it  always  shall.  The  hand  of 
Romanus,  as  I  think,  now  holds  the  salvation  of 
our  State,  and  you  are  called  to  strengthen  it — you, 
our  sole  trust — philosopher  and  statesman  in  one — 
Plato's  ideal  of  which  you  spoke." 

"Two  taskmasters  for  one  slave,"  he  said. 

"Romanus  trusts  you,  and  he  does  not  err." 


THE  PRISON  153 

"I  thank  him  for  his  good  esteem.  So  we  have 
come  to  the  entrance  of  the  theatre  and  must  choose 
our  mask — the  tragic  or  the  comic." 

"Tragedy  surely  lies  before  us,"  declared 
Eudocia,  but  Mcephorus  shook  his  head. 

"I'm  grown  too  old  for  tragedy.  Let  veterans 
go  smiling  in  gentle  sunset's  laughter,  Queen." 

"You  misread  the  times,"  answered  Romanus. 
"The  wind  that  blows  for  Michael  Psellus  and  the 
Patriarch  should  be  sharp-edged  and  steely.  To- 
night they  came  laden  with  lies  to  me." 

"To-night  they  came?"  asked  the  old  man. 

"Even  so.  They  told  me  that  the  Empress  was 
fixed  upon  my  immediate  death,  and  bade  me  fly 
at  once  to  my  Varangians,  that  with  the  armies  I 
might  cast  down  the  monarch  and  lift  Caesar  to  the 
throne." 

"And  what  said  you?"  asked  Eudocia. 

"I  had  looked  into  your  eyes,"  he  answered: 
"Only  a  miracle  saved  them  from  death.  They 
hopped  off — black  toads — to  spit  their  venom  else- 
where." 

"Such  men  are  something  too  slight  for  tragedy," 
mused  the  old  minister. 

"It  is  not  them  I  fear,  but  Heaven,"  explained 


154  EUDOCIA 

the  Empress.  "My  oath  to  the  royal  dead  darkens 
the  way,  not  these  living  men.  Beside  Komanus 
they  are  shadows." 

"But  why  the  oath,  Divine  One?"  asked  her 
lover.  "They  who  have  been  forced  against  their 
will  to  swear,  swear  nothing." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"I  will  not  escape  so.  I  knew  what  I  was  doing. 
How  say  you,  Mcephorus?  Think  ere  you  speak, 
for  two  lives  and  an  empire  hang  upon  your  answer. 
Is  there  any  way?" 

"In  the  affairs  of  the  spirit,  the  Patriarch  must 
be  allowed  all  powerful,"  he  answered. 

"But  there  are  good  spirits  and  evil,"  argued 
Romanus.  "If  a  man  is  subject  to  the  devil,  as 
Xiphilin  is,  then  he  is  not  omnipotent." 

"So  love  can  quicken  even  martial  wits  it  would 
seem,"  answered  the  elder.  "Perchance  your  cap- 
tain has  the  key,  Eudocia,  for  if  we  hold  the  Patri- 
arch is  about  to  cast  his  vote  with  the  black  angels 
of  treachery,  then  we  more  righteous  folk  may  well 
propose  a  question  to  his  claims." 

"The  price!  The  price!"  she  cried.  "Even  the 
devils  have  their  price." 

"The  Patriarch  is  not  a  devil,  Majesty.  He  is 
a  very  great  and  able  man — a  genius  of  many  parts. 


THE  PRISON  155 

But  he  is  vain,  as  men  of  genius  often  are.  Pride 
is  his  only  vulnerable  point,  and  the  more  so 
because  he  knows  it  not." 

"Then  fling  him  out  of  power,  and  since  you  a 
priest  would  be,  Mcephorus,  let  Eudocia  Augusta 
elevate  you  to  the  high  priest's  place,  so  that  this 
cursed  fraud  on  parchment  may  be  burned  once 
for  all." 

Nicephorus  shook  his  head. 

"I  did  wrong  to  commend  your  wits,"  he  an- 
swered. "Such  fiery  deeds  would  quickly  send  you 
where  your  Varangians  could  not  help  you." 

"Why  say  so?"  argued  Eudocia.  "If  you, 
Nicephorus,  were  Patriarch  and  held  it  a  seemly 
thing " 

"Ah !  There's  the  hitch,  Majesty.  If  I  were  his 
Beatitude,  the  Patriarch  of  the  East,  being  not  a 
vain  man,  and  armed  where  Xiphilin  is  open,  then 
who  knows  but  that  I  should  hold  you  to  your  oath? 
Let  me  be  therefore  and  meddle  not  with  my  Roman 
conscience.  But  we  have  to  deal  with  Xiphilin,  and 
the  case  is  a  thought  hopefuller." 

"Oh,  blessed  man,  you  know  a  way !" 

"Since  Xiphilin  is  Xiphilin,  Majesty,  a  way  is 
within  the  bounds  of  possibility — I  say  no  more 
than  that" 


156  EUDOCIA 

"Kiss  our  hand,  Mcephorus !"  she  cried,  and  he 
obeyed. 

"The  journey's  long,"  he  said,  "and  we  must  go 
in  patience  if  we  would  reach  the  goal  sought  by 
you  twain.  The  Fates,  however,  for  once  seem 
bent  on  comedy — at  least  for  some  of  us — and 
Psellus  and  the  Patriarch,  though  men  with  little 
laughter  in  them " 

"The  way — the  way?"  begged  Eudocia.  "Why 
did  you  keep  it  hid?  This  should  have  been  told 
in  our  ear  long,  long  ago." 

"Why,  Majesty?  You  never  desired  a  way,  nor 
could  I  have  answered  till  now ;  for  even  if  I  knew 
that  some  day  you'd  love,  I  could  not  guess  where 
the  royal  heart  would  come  to  rest." 

"You  knew  that  I  should  love?"  she  asked. 

"Because  you're  perfect  woman,"  vowed  Ro- 
manus.  "Did  I  not  well  to  pray  that  you  would 
trust  this  subtle  friend?  But  let  him  speak  on. 
Can  we  uncut  such  a  knot  without  the  edge  of  my 
sword?" 

"Without  it,  or  not  at  all.  Swords  will  not  save 
us.  Xiphilin  alone  hath  power  to  serve  the  Em- 
press now,  and  he's  a  man  of  peace." 

"He'd  rather  die  than  loose  me,"  she  declared. 


THE  PRISON  157 

"But  when  you  wed,  you  wed  the  armies,  and  are 
impregnable,  Eudocia,"  explained  Romanus. 

"How  may  that  be  done,  dear  general,  if  only 
Xiphilin  can  let  me  wed?  Even  had  he  the  power, 
which  he  would  deny,  he  would  refuse  us:" 

"Depose  him." 

"But  can  the  lady  depose  her  conscience?"  asked 
their  counsellor. 

"Forward  then,"  said  she.  "We  trust  you  with 
our  lives  and  loves,  Mcephorus,  and  you  have 
promised  that  a  way  exists  within  the  power  of 
royalty  to  follow." 

"Agreed;  but  there's  sour  powder  for  your  deli- 
cate tongue,  Majesty,  ere  you  feast." 

"We  shall  share  it,"  she  answered.  "And  first, 
before  I  move  a  step,  Romanus  Diogenes  must  be  a 
free  man." 

"Indeed,  no,  Queen.  The  soldier  stays  here," 
explained  Nicephorus.  "Into  this  labyrinth  we 
must  wind  like  a  serpent,  the  clue,  alas!  guile. 
Take  a  false  step  and  our  comedy  is  turned  to 
tragedy,  our  art  all  marred.  Romanus  shall  be  held 
in  pawn  for  your  mercenaries.  The  legions  may 
play  their  part  in  the  last  act,  not  the  first." 

"What  of  John  Ducas?"  she  asked. 


158  EUDOCIA 

"He,  good  soul,  must  have  the  dust  in  his  eyes 
a  little  longer.  Trouble  not  for  him,  Eudocia. 
He'll  presently  thank  you  on  his  knees  for  saving 
him  from  the  terror  of  the  purple.  Intrigue  shall  be 
met  with  intrigue,  and  yours  the  move." 

"Intrigue  is  no  weapon  for  imperial  power,"  she 
argued,  but  he  convinced  her  to  the  contrary. 

"You  cannot  set  an  army  in  array  to  fight  a 
brace  of  weasels;  we  do  not  attack  vermin  with  a 
phalanx.  There  are  things  only  to  be  destroyed 
with  smoke,  and  mean  enterprises  that  may  vanish 
under  the  wind  of  honest  laughter." 

"Eagles  do  not  catch  flies,  Mcephorus." 

"But  flies  can  buzz  about  an  eagle's  eyrie;  and 
flies  can  sting.  Our  task,  then,  to  draw  their  stings. 
Grant  your  Patriarch's  a  wasp,  then  this  most 
holy  hornet  keeps  a  pot  of  honey  stored  in  his 
nest — is  it  not  so?" 

"My  oath  to  wed  no  more." 

"To  beg  that  honey  is  our  plan,  upon  such  plea 
as  his  invincible  piety  may  grant." 

"Beg  to  him!"  cried  the  Empress.  "Beg  to  a 
lynx  or  tiger  to  lose  its  living  meal !  Vain  words. 
You  grow  sleepy,  Mcephorus.  You'll  only  win  my 
oath  when  Xiphilin  is  dead." 

"Indeed,  no :  that  would  be  to  lose  our  last  hope, 


THE  PRISON  159 

Majesty.  He  must  not  die,  else  all  is  lost.  Xiphilin 
dead  is  Xiphilin  spoiled  and  useless  for  our  purpose. 
Listen  now  to  what  shall  happen.  Let  a  few  days 
pass — then  call  me  back  to  Court,  but  not  to  office. 
As  a  forgiven  man  I  return,  in  charity  with  all — 
my  foes  as  well  as  friends.  Meantime  Michael 
Psellus  remains  Prime  Minister,  and  presently 
puzzles  to  know  where  I  stand.  He  will  smell  a 
plot,  but  must  not  taste  it  until  the  hash  be  ready. 
Diogenes  remains  here  under  the  shadow  of  your 
darkest  ire.  If  he  escape,  my  trouble  and  your  love 
are  both  wasted.  It  is,  indeed,  vital  that  he  should 
be  fast  bound — why,  I  shall  tell  you  when  I  return 
to  you.  And  now  let  me  pray  the  Divine  One  to 
depart  and  seek  her  rest.  I  have  to  speak  with 
Bardas." 

"The  Protostrator — what  of  him?"  asked  Ro- 
manus. 

"He,  of  all  worthless  men,  shall  not  be  dragged 
into  this  matter,  Nicephorus,"  declared  the  Em- 
press. 

"Nothing  is  worthless,"  answered  the  veteran. 
"There's  a  proverb,  Majesty,  that,  hoard  it  long 
enough,  and  every  piece  of  rubbish  will  be  found  to 
have  its  use.    The  turn  has  come  for  Bardas." 

"But  he  is  a  man  of  no  parts,"  she  answered — 


160  EUDOCIA 

"a  vain,  futile  thing,  who  lives  for  hawks  and 
hounds,  and  shows  in  the  hippodrome.  He  has 
won  my  own  Theodora,  and  it  is  a  grief  and  shock 
to  me  that  one  I  love  can  love  a  Bardas." 

"The  friendships  of  our  dearest  companions  often 
shock  us,"  answered  Mcephorus.  "One  may  need 
self-control  and  patience  to  stomach  our  friends' 
friends.  But  do  not  hate  your  showy  Bardas.  He 
can  help  us  vitally — though  not  with  hawks  and 
hounds.  Theodora,  you  say,  has  plighted  her  troth 
with  him?" 

"She  has,  but  won  no  smile  from  me.  She 
knows  that  I  despise  him." 

"Good.  That  helps  us.  You  must  forbid  this 
match,  Eudocia.  You  must  decline  to  sanction  any 
such  betrothal." 

But  she  shook  her  head. 

"Ask  not  that,  though  like  enough  you  ask  well. 
She  loves  him  and  I,  who  know  what  love  means — 
I  could  not  part  them." 

"Yet  I  think  you  must,"  he  insisted.  "If  only 
for  a  season  you  shall  break  it  off  implicitly.  Like 
enough  the  maiden  will  bless  you  in  time  to  come. 
But  you  have  leave  to  be  subtle,  not  violent.  Your 
part  shall  be  to  say  no  finite  word,  yet  by  your 
actions  ignore  this  engagement,  as  though,  for  you 
at  least,  it  did  not  exist.    Bardas  will  do  the  rest,  if 


THE  PRISON  161 

I  know  him.  We  must  not  deny  the  gifts  of  the 
gods,  for  they  are  not  offered  twice.  Therefore 
smile  upon  your  servant  Bardas.  Court  him;  de- 
mand his  constant  company;  order  his  instant  re- 
turn, and  favour  him  handsomely  when  he  has  re- 
turned. Bardas,  believe  me,  is  vital  to  the  comedy. 
He  was,  perchance,  born  for  these  events  alone." 

"Shall  I  trust  Xiphilin's  brother?"  she  inquired 
doubtfully. 

"You  are  not  asked  to  trust,  but  only  to  smile," 
answered  the  old  man.  "We're  often  called  to 
smile  where  we  trust  least.  But  Bardas  will  re- 
spond readily  enough,  and  make  the  way  easy. 
Bestow  large  friendship  upon  him  and  ready  com- 
panionship." 

"I  hate  to  play  so  mean  a  part,"  she  said. 

"The  game  is  nothing,  the  stake  everything, 
Eudocia.  An  Empress  of  the  East  plays  many 
parts;  that  is  her  destiny." 

"Come  with  me  now  then — now — now,  Nice- 
phorus.  By  stealth  return  with  me,  and  burst  upon 
the  Court  to-morrow  with  the  sun!" 

She  was  already  hastening  to  the  window,  but 
her  ancient  counsellor  laughed. 

"You  shaved  my  head  and  would  you  break 
my  neck?"  he  answered.  "There  is  a  mist  on 
Marmora,  and  I  have  a  catarrh.     I'm  tired  and 


162  EUDOCIA 

very  sleepy,  Divine  One ;  nor  is  ray  work  done  yet. 
Say  yonr  farewells  and  begone.  Meantime  we 
live  for  you." 

He  turned  his  back  upon  them,  and  lifting  his 
hand  put  his  great  chin  in  it,  while  Eudocia  picked 
up  her  mask. 

"For  Heaven's  sake  be  careful,  my  little  life," 
implored  Romanus.     "It  is  a  cruel  drop." 

"Bid  me  be  patient,  not  careful,"  she  said,  with 
her  hand  in  his. 

"The  immortal  only  can  trust  time,"  he  an- 
swered; "but  I  must  be  patient  too.  Would  you 
were  in  your  pinnace." 

"My  body  will  guard  the  treasure  hidden  in  my 
soul,  Romanus." 

He  embraced  her,  and  she  rejoiced  for  a  moment 
in  his  arms. 

"God  guide  your  feet,"  he  murmured. 

"Has  He  not  guided  them  to  you?"  she  asked. 

"Blessed  silk  and  ivory  to  bear  that  load  sub- 
lime," he  whispered.  "Oh,  how  I  grudge  it  them. 
Do  the  boatmen  know  they  rowed  the  Queen?" 

"Not  they.  Farewell,  Mcephorus.  Come  quickly 
to  us." 

"And  gladly  come  when  all's  done  here,  Divine 
One,"  he  answered. 


THE  PRISON  163 

Then  carefully  she  descended,  and  at  sight  of  her 
swaying  above  them  the  drowsy  rowers  made  ready. 

"She's  like  a  little  night-moth,  twinkling  in  the 
silver  of  the  moon!"  murmured  Romanus,  and  his 
words  roused  Mcephorus  from  reverie. 

"Your  name's  unlucky,"  he  said.  "Two  have 
reigned  Romanus — First  and  Second.  But  neither 
tempted  the  smile  of  fate.  Think  you,  soldier,  you 
are  great  enough  for  so  tremendous  a  fortune?" 

The  other,  however,  barely  heard  him.  His  eyes 
were  upon  the  descending  figure. 

"She  is  safe!"  he  exclaimed  at  last.  "The  pin- 
nace shoots  away.  We  are  alone.  Is  it  a  dream, 
Mcephorus?  Am  I  a  living,  or  a  sleeping  man 
this  night?" 

The  other  considered  the  question. 

"A  just  distinction,  for  to  sleep  is  not  to  live. 
Yet  must  we  sleep  to  live  and  dawdle  a  third  of  our 
short  time  in  shadowland,  that  we  may  employ  the 
rest.  Mayhap  our  Maker  regrets  that  we  do  not 
slumber  more.  Eight  hours  of  every  day  blotted 
out;  and  I  like  ten  myself,  when  Hypnos  meets  me 
in  a  generous  mood." 

"I'll  not  eat  nor  sleep  again  until "  began 

the  soldier;  but  Nicephorus  stopped  him. 

"Make  no  rash  oaths !    See  what  a  coil  the  royal 


1S4  EUDOCIA 

oath  has  brought  to  us,  and  go  to  tout  bed  now. 
Sleep  may  not  be  your  friend,  but  it  is  the  best 
we  old  men  can  count  upon." 

"Shall  I  be  weak  while  Eudocia  is  made  of  cour- 
age?   Shall  I  sleep  while  she  labours?" 

The  other  struck  the  bell  upon  the  table  before 
he  answered. 

"Draw  up  the  ladder  and,  if  you  must  wake, 
spend  the  night  kissing  the  rungs  her  feet  have 
trodden.  You  will  soon  be  free  should  I  win  my 
bout  with  the  Patriarch ;  but  at  your  peril  make  any 
attempt  to  leave  the  prisons  sooner.  Xo,  not  if 
Eudocia's  self  command  it.    Mark  this  gem." 

He  held  up  his  left  hand,  whereon  appeared  a 
solitary  ruby  set  in  massive  silver. 

"That  and  that  only  must  guide  you  forth. 
Now  get  you  gone.  I  have  to  do  with  Bardas  be- 
fore I  slumber." 

Bomanus  drew  in  the  rope-ladder  and  spoke  as 
he  did  so. 

"Shall  I  not  hear  what  you  must  tell  him?" 

•Not  half  a  syllable.  Mad  lover  that  you  are,  I 
should  find  your  fingers  on  my  throat,  or  his." 

Diogenes  stood  in  doubt  at  a  speech  so  strange. 

"I  trust  you  utterly,"  he  said. 

**You  must,  my  general,"  answered  the  old  man ; 
then  Mai  thus  entered. 


THE  PRISON  165 

"I  was  asleep,"  he  grumbled.  Then  he  looked 
round  the  chamber. 

"Wheres  Hop-o"-my-Thumb?  Hast  eaten  him?" 
he  asked. 

"Swallowed  the  flittermouse  between  us,"  re- 
plied Xicephorus.  "We  shared  the  creature's  heart. 
And  now  bid  our  gallant  Protostrator  attend  me. 
I  have  a  message. for  him." 

"Know  you  not  that  it  is  near  two  of  the  morn- 
ing, Mcephorus?  Do  you  set  speech  with  that 
windy  nothing  before  your  wholesome  rest?" 

"We  must  mortify  our  weary  flesh  a  little  longer, 
and  suffer  fools  gladly  if  they  stand  as  high  as 
Bardas.  Be  cheerful.  Hell  return  to  Court  to- 
morrow." 

"He's  only  fit  for  Court,"  answered  the  gaoler. 

Then,  with  Romanus,  he  departed  and  left  the 
statesman  alone. 


§  5 

Nicephorus  sighed,  bent  his  brows,  coughed  and 
patted  his  chest.  Then  he  shut  the  window  and 
returned  to  his  chair.  He  was  eating  grapes  and 
planning  his  attack  when  Bardas  entered  in  a 
dressing-gown,  the  curls  of  his  beard  screwed  for 
the  night. 


166  EUDOCIA 

"Not  abed,  old  man?  Remember  monks  keep 
earlier  hours  than  courtiers." 

Mcephorus  regarded  him  thoughtfully. 

"The  Arabs,"  he  said,  "hold  that  our  fate  is 
written  in  the  sutures  of  our  skulls,  which  is  Allah's 
caligraphy,  graven  in  the  womb,  and  beyond  human 
wits  to  cipher ;  but  we  know  better,  and  guess  every 
man's  fate  lies  in  the  brain  his  skull  conceals." 

"What  then?"  asked  Bardas. 

Still  Mcephorus  surveyed  him  with  the  deepest 
apparent  admiration.  He  plucked  a  white  grape 
from  a  bunch  and  held  it  under  the  light  of  the 
lamp. 

"No  doubt  your  nimble  mind  has  marked  that 
this,  our  world,  is  very  like  a  grape,  Bardas?  It 
holds  both  sweet  and  bitter ;  day  lights  it  upon  one 
side,  while  upon  the  other  darkness  shadows  its 
rotundity.  Both  reach  ripeness — one  on  the  vines 
of  heaven,  the  other  in  the  vineyards  of  earth,  and 
both  gradually  grow  to  their  perfection.  Presently 
they  will  shrink  and  all  their  treasure  die.  A 
bunch  of  grapes,  or  galaxy  of  worlds — Nature  holds 
sun  and  berry  alike." 

"Confound  you!  Have  you  roused  me  from  my 
first  precious  sleep  to  talk  nonsense,  Nicephorus?" 
exclaimed  the  indignant  man. 


THE  PRISON  167 

"When  a  grape  is  ripe,  that  is  the  time  to  eat  it, 
Bardas.  They  say  that  you  are  vain  and  pride 
yourself  upon  more  gifts  than  God  has  granted  you ; 
but  I  think  not  so.  You  do  not  guess  the  half  that 
lies  within  your  power.  No  need  to  tell  you  when 
grapes  are  ripe." 

"You  speak  truly.  Indeed  I  am  modest  as  men 
go,  Nicephorus.  I  know  my  gifts — only  a  fool  is 
blind  on  such  a  subject.  But  my  powers  are 
slighted." 

Nicephorus  turned  the  leaves  of  a  volume  upon 
the  table. 

"Do  you  read  Lucretius,  friend?"  he  asked. 

"Read  a  poet — I,  that  am  one?  No;  I  read  in 
nothing  but  the  book  of  life." 

"And  skip  a  deal  of  that — most  men  do.  Hence 
often  come  their  deserved  misfortunes.  But  much 
we  may  not  miss.  Strange  that  such  piercing  eyes 
— eyes  that  can  see  the  towering  hawk  when  it  is 
lost  to  common  sight — should  have  missed  such  a 
page  of  life  as  lies  open  before  you  now." 

"Not  at  all  strange,"  answered  Bardas.  "Am  I 
not  mad  with  love?  What  matters  all  the  arid 
wilderness  of  open  pages  when  a  man  reads  two 
eyes  aright?" 

"In  love?    If  that  indeed  is  so,  then  should  you 


168  EUDOCIA 

be  safely  caged  with  Diogenes.  For  are  you  not  as 
great  a  man  as  the  soldier?" 

"And  if  I  am?" 

"Why,  then,  no  doubt  you'd  love  as  high  and  aim 
as  high.    Only  the  highest  would  content  you." 

"The  Empress?  Good  God,  what  senile  dream 
is  this,  Mcephorus?  I  love  her  not — in  your  ear  I 
do  not  even  like  her.  Who  should  know  her  hard 
heart  better  than  you,  now  cast  into  a  monastery  at 
her  decree?  I  am  betrothed  to  her  confidante  and 
first  friend,  the  adorable  Theodora.  We  only  live 
when  lip  meets  lip.  But  Eudocia  hates  to  lose  the 
girl,  and  frowns  upon  our  love  with  most  cursed 
selfishness  and  cruelty.  I  almost  fear  to  speak 
before  her,  though  no  coward,  as  all  know." 

"Well  may  you  fear,  you  witless  fool!  Indeed 
you  are  a  madman — blind,  deaf,  rapt  away  from 
the  terrific  reality.  It  was  time — more  than  time 
that  we  had  secret  speech  together,  for,  in  the 
struggle  near  at  hand,  I  much  depend  upon  you." 

"You  shall  not  tempt  me  from  my  duty.  You  are 
a  prisoner  and  I  am  set  to  guard  you.  There  can  be 
no  plots  here,  Mcephorus,  and  no  intriguing.  You 
have  yet  to  know  me  if  you  dream  of  escape." 

"Bat !  Owl !"  answered  Mcephorus,  laughing  in 
his  face.  "It  is  you  who  are  bound  hand  and  foot ! 
I  am  as  free  as  air." 


THE  PRISON  169 

"A  prisoner?  I?  What  folly  is  this?  Have  the 
grapes  made  you  drank?" 

"Credit  me,  Bardas,  and  face  reality.  Your  life 
may  hang  upon  it,"  said  the  elder  quietly. 

"My  life!  I,  that  avoid  politics  as  I  would  a 
snake?    What  have  I  done?" 

He  was  alarmed  and  his  dark  eyes  rolled,  while 
he  clutched  his  bedgown  about  him. 

"What  you  have  done,  and  what  you  have  not 
done,  make  together  a  mountain  of  your  short- 
comings, my  poor  soul.  Did  not  the  Empress  will 
me  here  to  watch  on  you  and  mark  how  you  took 
exile  from  her?  Is  it  not  for  the  sake  of  this  night's 
work  that  I  have  endured  these  prodigious  dis- 
honours? Come  close.  None  save  the  crickets, 
that  chant  so  huskily,  must  hear  us.  A  mighty 
matter  indeed !  See,  the  moon  sinks  on  Marmora, 
Bardas,  and  the  very  mists  slumber.  So  shall  all 
the  world  sleep,  but  you  and  I.  Know,  then,  I 
still  serve  the  realm — actively — and  Eudocia — and 
you." 

"For  God's  sake  link  not  our  names,"  implored 
Bardas.  "There's  danger  in  it — awful  danger  for 
me." 

He  was  trembling. 

"You,  too,  might  be  a  statesman  if  you  would — 
and  more  than  a  statesman,"  answered  Nicephoras. 


170  EUDOCIA 

"Your  sagacity,  I  think,  should  match  your  cour- 
age, Bardas.  Nor  is  Eudocia  without  these  quali- 
ties. None  knows  better  than  she — perhaps  none 
so  well — that  the  State  has  ever  hated  woman's 
rule." 

"They  rise  young  Michael  with  the  Caesar,  and 
send  her  to  a  nunnery.  It  is  as  good  as  done,  and 
I  shall  not  pretend  a  regret  I  cannot  feel,"  declared 
Bardas. 

"Whether  indeed  they  do  so  will  largely  depend 
upon  you  and  me,"  answered  Mcephorus,  shaking 
his  head  with  solemnity.  "Eudocia  has  learned  all 
particulars  of  their  disloyalty.  But  we — you  and  I 
— to  us  she  looks  in  her  need.  What  think  you 
quickened  the  imperial  wits?" 

"You,  doubtless,  if  you  have  no  desire  to  see 
her  deposed." 

"Nay,  Bardas :  a  greater  far  than  I,  and  Eros  is 
his  name.    She  loves !" 

"Romanus?" 

"So  well  that  he  is  here,  and  there  runs  a  whis- 
per abroad  that  he  will  die." 

"That  indeed  is  so,"  confirmed  Bardas.  "By 
fire  she  slays  him;  I  had  forgotten.  In  any  case 
she  could  not  love,  and  happily  for  men  she  may 


THE  PRISON  171 

not.  Her  oath  draws  her  talons,  and  my  brother 
will  see  that  she  is  never  absolved  from  it." 

"Who  can  tell?"  asked  Mcephorus.  "True  love 
has  always  been  a  foe  to  the  churchmen,  and  will 
often  find  a  trick  to  circumvent  them.  A  strange 
thing  has  happened — a  great  portent,  and  I  wel- 
come it  as  you  will.  There  was  but  one  man  she 
might  have  loved  with  any  shadow  of  hope,  and 
the  gods,  all  knowing,  find  that  man." 

His  listener  denied  it  vigorously. 

"There's  no  such  man  in  the  world,"  he  declared. 

"I  say  he  exists,"  replied  Mcephorus,  "and 
Bardas  is  his  name !" 

The  Protostrator  reeled  into  a  chair  and 
crouched  there  as  though  he  had  been  a  rat  in  a 
trap.  He  held  his  hand  to  his  forehead  and  stared 
in  horror  at  the  speaker. 

"Love  me — Eudocia?"  he  gasped. 

"That  you  should  ask  the  question  amazes  my 
mind,"  replied  Nicephorus  calmly.  "No  doubt  this 
wild-goose  chase  after  her  tire-woman  has  obscured 
your  natural  perception.  Yet  can  you  have  ignored 
the  tr^lc  of  her  eyes — her  pouts  and  frowns  and 
slights,  her  wayward  moods  to  send  you  upon  this 
or  that  business,  or  change  the  time  when  you  had 


172  EUDOCIA 

planned  your  hunting?  Could  you  misread  direc- 
tions sd  clear,  that  only  royalty  had  dared  to  give 
them?  Look  back  and  reconstruct  the  past  in  the 
gleam  I  shed  upon  your  perilous  darkness.  Why, 
man,  this  night  her  thoughts  are  on  you,  and  I  have 
received  a  direct  message  from  her!" 

Bardas  panted  like  a  furnace;  he  mopped  his 
head  and  stared  upon  the  other  as  though  he  had 
been  a  spirit. 

"Dear  God!"  he  whispered,  afraid  to  speak 
aloud.  "Did  the  Patriarch  dream  of  such  a  tragedy 
he'd  banish  me  the  kingdom,  even  if  he  spared  my 
life." 

"The  time  has  come  to  trust  me,  not  Xiphilin — 
to  trust  me  and  your  own  rare  self,  friend." 

"Folly — annihilation — the  darkness  of  death,  I 
tell  you !  He's  a  thousand  times  stronger  than  you ; 
and  as  for  me,  he'd  crush  me  like  a  poor,  innocent 
insect  if  he  heard  of  this." 

"Do  servants  crush  their  masters?"  asked 
Nicephorus.  "Your  wits  lag,  Bardas.  You  shrink 
below  yourself  a  little.  Here's  a  path  straight  to 
the  throne!  Is  that  clear  to  your  understanding? 
With  such  a  man  as  you  at  the  head  of  the  empire, 
things  strange  and  new  and  wonderful  would  most 
surely  happen.  We,  indeed,  should  hardly  know 
ourselves." 


THE  PRISON  173 

"But  is  it  true — true  that  she  loves  me?" 

"Only  play  your  great  part,  and  she  will  love 
you  even  better  than  she  does  at  this  moment," 
replied  Nicephorus.  "Rise  to  your  destiny,  my 
heroic  Greek,  and  answer  this  gift  of  fortune  in  the 
voice  of  one  who  deserves  it!  Why,  Bardas,  both 
fates  and  furies  are  upon  your  side.  They  leave  you 
little  but  a  triumphal  march.  I  see,  indeed,  no 
more  than  one  cloud  upon  your  sky." 

"Aye — a  cloud  with  lightning  in  it  for  my  head," 
answered  the  Protostrator. 

"Not  so.  It  will  be  for  you  to  wield  Jove's  bolt 
henceforth.     I  only  mourn  for  Theodora." 

"If  that  were  all,"  answered  the  other,  "what 
should  she  matter  now?  We  forget  the  glow-worm 
when  the  moon  rises.  A  woman's  nought,  Nice- 
phorus :  I  know  them  well  enough.  One  woman's  like 
another;  but  an  Empress — I  cannot  credit  this." 

"Your  pride  and  ambition  should  surely  help  you 
to  do  so.    Why  may  not  Eudocia  love  you?" 

Bardas  reflected.  He  was  growing  calmer,  but 
still  lacked  control  of  his  voice. 

"Of  course  you  throw  a  light  on  many  doubtful 
things  if  this,  indeed,  is  true,"  he  admitted.  "Her 
hatred  of  my  dallying  with  the  fair  girl ;  her  send- 
ing me  on  duties  that  detained  me  from  her  sight — 
these  and  a  thousand  other  petulances  that  I  have 


174  EUDOCIA 

failed  to  read.  What  took  her?  My  horseman- 
ship? And  yet  she  never  praised  it,  But,  though 
one  may  admit,  perhaps,  the  truth  of  this  as  not 
very  amazing,  the  thing  itself  is  impossible ;  she  and 
you  must  know  that,  Mcephorus.  If  my  brother 
were  called  away  into  a  better  world — if  death 
overtook  him — then — possibly — but  only  so." 

"You  must  not  hope  for  any  deliverance  there. 
Yet,  if  I  have  opened  your  eyes  and  inspired  your 
ambition,  all  is  so  far  well,"  answered  the  old  man 
steadily.  "A  battle  of  the  giants  we  shall  have, 
Bardas.  And  for  the  Patriarch,  fear  him  not  at  all. 
Leave  him  to  me.  Your  part  is  pleasanter :  to  make 
swift  amends  for  your  most  dangerous  oversight, 
to  play  the  gallant  with  all  your  charm  and  skill, 
that  you  may  win  her  swift  forgiveness.  Easy 
enough  will  it  be  as  you  shall  find.  But  take  heed 
at  every  step,  my  lad ;  use  all  caution  and  the  utter- 
most sense  that  God  has  given  you.  It  is  a  stu- 
pendous task,  even  fate  helping,  to  reach  a  throne. 
Keveal  your  courage  and  hope  high.  The  man  who 
courts  a  princess  must  work  hard;  therefore  con- 
cern yourself  with  her  alone.  Give  heed  to  none 
else,  none  other.  Lastly,  remember  the  fate  that 
overtakes  the  spider's  husband." 


THE  PRISON  175 

Bardas  shrank  again  and  turned  to  pale  from 
red. 

"Death !"  he  answered.    "Why  say  you  that?" 

"For  good  advice.  She  is  no  spider,  but  has 
high  spirits.  And  first  cool  the  old  love  gently, 
firmly.  Theodora,  who  thought  you  loved  her, 
must  be  undeceived.  Your  experience  and  natural 
gifts  will  help  you  there.  And  one  thing  more. 
That  all  may  go  as  you  would  desire,  meddle  not  at 
all  with  politics.  Set  your  heart  only  on  Eudocia. 
Take  no  thought  upon  me,  or  any  man,  and  when  I 
presently  return  to  Court,  as  visitor  and  friend,  but 
without  power  of  office,  do  not  bate  your  courtesy 
to  those  who  seem  to  rule — to  Michael  Psellus, 
Caesar,  the  Senate.  It  must  soon  happen  that  the 
soldiers,  hungering  for  him,  will  clamour  after 
Romanus,  seek  him  here  and  strive  to  get  him. 
But  that  shall  not  be,  for  did  he  guess  that  Eudocia 
designed  to  lift  you  to  the  throne,  he  would  smudge 
you  out  like  a  mosquito.,, 

"Another  peril!  But  happily  he  is  to  die  at 
once." 

"Think  nothing  of  him.  This  place  is  proof 
against  the  Varangians,  and  we  can  win  them  at  the 
right  moment  to  the  side  of  the  Empress." 


176  EUDOCIA 

"When  do  I  return  to  Court?"  asked  Bardas. 

"To-morrow,"  answered  the  counsellor.  "And 
see  that  you  do  so.  She'll  welcome  you  and  expect 
a  change  of  vision,  now  that  this  mighty  secret  is 
dropped  in  your  ear." 

"Follow  me  quickly,  I  beseech  you;  I  shall  need 
your  voice  and  wisdom,  if  I  am  to  rise  to  this  dizzy 
height,"  said  Bardas. 

"Fear  not :  I  soon  return." 

"And  now  for  yourself?"  asked  the  younger,  still 
sweating  heartily,  and  with  a  leaping  pulse. 
"These  are  amazing  services,  and  I  am  beholden  to 
you  for  a  change  in  fortune  beyond  my  hugest 
hopes.    Of  course  you  mean  a  bargain?" 

"Why,  of  course  I  do.  It  was  certain  that  you 
would  so  regard  it.  All  life's  a  bargain,  Bardas. 
Each  huckster  brings  his  basket  to  the  market-place 
and  hopes  to  sell  his  rubbish  to  some  fool.  My 
price  can  wait.  I'll  win  it  out  of  the  time  to  come. 
I  aim  at  peace — at  stern  retrenchments  and  self- 
denials  for  us  all.  Then  a  mighty  stroke  launched 
on  the  Saracen.  My  highest  dreams  may  depend  on 
your  forthcoming  achievements,  and  if  only  you 
play  your  part,  good  shall  follow." 

Mai  thus  entered  at  this  moment.  He  carried  a 
lantern. 


THE  PRISON  177 

"The  soldiers  are  broke  loose,"  he  said,  and  even 
as  he  spoke  there  came  the  distant  murmurings 
of  many  voices. 

"A  noise  to  frighten  kittens,"  answered  Nice- 
phorus;  but  the  Protostrator  was  perturbed. 

"Are  we  safe?"  he  asked. 

"The  prisons  are  impregnable,"  replied  Malthus. 
"They  want  Romanus  Diogenes.  The  murder's  out, 
I  find,  and  the  Varangians  have  heard  he  is  to 
die." 

"Once    he    is    dead "    began    Bardas;    but 

Nicephorus  interrupted. 

"Nay,  leave  him  to  Eudocia.  Her  opinion  con- 
cerning him  will  know  no  change.  Go,  seek  your 
rest  against  to-morrow.  Malthus  can  assure  the 
legions  that  their  general  is  not  to  perish." 

"Yes,  <  yes,  do  that,"  urged  Bardas,  "then  the 
night  shall  know  peace.  It  will  calm  them  and 
draw  them  off  to  their  camps.  To-morrow  it  is 
certain,  nevertheless,  that  Romanus  must  die,  and 
that  will  now  be  best.  At  daylight  I  withdraw 
again  to  Court  and  leave  you  in  sole  command." 

He  bade  Nicephorus  farewell  until  the  morning, 
and  departed.    Malthus  asked  a  question : 

"Must  the  general  die?  Did  Eudocia's  messen- 
ger bring  that  ugly  news  to  him?    I've  seen  many 


178  EUDOCIA 

pass  from  here  to  death  and  wasted  no  sigh  upon 
them,  but  the  Cappadocian " 

"Fear  nothing  for  him,  save  his  escape,"  an- 
swered Nicephorus.  "Romanus  is  safe  enough  with 
you;  but  yield  him  up  to  no  demand,  whatsoever, 
until  you  have  had  speech  with  me." 

The  thunder  of  distant  voices  rolled  through  the 
night,  and  Nicephorus  continued : 

"I'll  speak  to  them;  and,  for  your  ear  alone, 
Malthus,  I  am  here  no  longer  as  a  prisoner,  but 
for  purposes  of  state.  Eudocia  and  I  are  again 
at  one." 

"Thank  God  for  it,"  answered  the  red  man.  "I 
do  not  want  you  here,  and  would  rather  welcome 
those  you  may  send  me  than  yourself.  Come  now 
and  speak  from  the  outer  walls  to  these  barbarians. 
They'll  heed  you  willingly." 

Nicephorus  rose  with  a  sigh. 

"Sorry,  sorry  the  stuff  we  mortal  men  are  made 
of,"  he  said. 

"Poor  clay  and  coarse,  most  of  us,"  admitted  the 
other. 

"So  coarse  that  few  go  perfect  even  to  the  firing, 
Malthus.  The  potter  mauls  a  thousand  upon  his 
wheel  for  one  that  he  turns  true.  If  life  be  the  art 
of  God,  then  why  does  He  make  so  few  master- 
pieces?" 


THE  PRISON  179 

"Perchance  in  other  worlds,  if  such  there  are, 
the  material  is  better." 

Then  Malthus  extinguished  the  lamp  and  they 
went  out  together,  leaving  only  a  pattern  of  moon- 
light to  climb  the  eastern  wall  and  silver  the  ikon 
that  hung  upon  it.  Landward  the  growling  of  the 
soldiers  lifted  and  lulled;  then  it  broke  into  a 
louder  shout  and  sank  back  to  silence,  that 
Nicephorus  might  be  heard. 


CHAPTER     III 

BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS 


CHAPTER     III 

BESIDE   THE   VINEYARDS 
§    1 

The  royal  domain  spread  southerly  of  the  palace, 
and  where  the  gardens  of  pleasure  ceased  a  semi- 
wild  region  extended  to  the  vineyards.  Here,  in 
this  mediate  space,  lay  a  nook  beside  a  knoll 
whereon  were  scattered  the  remains  of  a  little 
sanctuary.  To  other  times  and  other  gods  it 
pointed,  and  in  the  midst  of  fallen  pillars,  where  one 
or  two  still  reared  to  carven  capitals  of  the  grape, 
there  stood  a  ruined  statue  of  Dionysus.  The  deity 
had  lost  his  arms,  his  breast  and  trunk  were  much 
weathered,  and  moss  was  got  into  the  vine  leaves 
that  adorned  his  hair ;  but  still  he  possessed  beauty 
from  the  golden  time,  and  revealed,  in  limbs  and 
face,  a  perfection  unperceived  by  those  who  now 
came  and  went  before  him. 

Beneath  the  temple  spread  a  little  amphitheatre 
of  grass,  while  behind  it  rose  a  pine  or  two,  lifting 

their  ruddy  trunks  through  thickets  of  oleander 

183 


184  EUDOCIA 

and  myrtle.  For  here  ran  a  stream,  and  the  flower- 
ing shrubs  flourished  with  their  feet  in  water. 

Now,  near  four  o'clock  of  the  afternoon,  there 
came  the  murmur  of  a  brook  and  a  louder  murmur 
and  hum  of  human  voices  from  the  vineyards  not 
a  hundred  yards  distant.  There  a  thousand  men, 
women  and  children  were  busy  gathering  the  royal 
grapes,  and  to-day,  following  an  ancient  custom, 
the  Empress  designed  to  visit  the  workers,  make 
festival,  and  move  among  them.  Her  resting-place 
was  to  be  this  green  space  beneath  the  ruins,  and 
there,  at  sunset,  the  annual  rite  would  end  with  a 
procession  of  the  husbandmen. 

As  yet  the  prelude  of  this  entertainment  had  not 
begun ;  but  now  two  men  appeared  at  the  meeting- 
place  and  held  brief  speech  before  the  arrival  of 
the  Court.  Michael  Psellus  and  the  Caesar  came 
together,  and  Mcephorus  was  the  subject  of  their 
conversation.  Both  looked  anxious,  and  while  the 
historian  was  cold  and  reserved,  concealing  the 
impatience  that  tormented  his  heart,  John  Ducas 
made  no  attempt  to  hide  care. 

"Have  you  spoken  with  him  again  ?"  he  asked. 
"He  shows  no  enmity  that  I  have  observed,  and 
moves  freely  and  cheerfully  as  of  old;  but  that's 
the  man." 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  185 

"We  have  yet  to  be  sure  that  he  feels  enmity," 
answered  Psellus.  "There's  nothing  visible  as  yet. 
He  vows  that  he  is  thankful  to  escape  office,  and 
tells  me  that  if  it  lies  in  his  power  to  serve  me,  he 
will  do  so.  He  angles  for  my  purposes,  but  deftly 
and  with  no  indiscreet  desire  to  know  them." 

"Is  he  content,  then,  to  play  looker-on  and  feel 
the  indifference  he  assumes?" 

Michael  Psellus  shook  his  head. 

"It  is  little  likely.  He  never  suffered  passion 
to  cloud  his  plans.  His  patience  would  restrain 
him.  If  he  designs  some  counter-stroke — but  what 
should  he  design?  He  cannot  fail  to  know  that  we 
are  right." 

"He  cherishes  no  personal  hate,  though  we 
planned  his  downfall  openly." 

"Why  should  he?"  asked  the  statesman.  "He 
must  grant  that  we  had  reason,  for  the  proofs  were 
plain  enough.  But  that  Eudocia  should  have 
called  him  back  shows  the  man  has  not  lost  his 
cunning.  I  would  give  much  to  know  how  he 
achieved  that.  Once  restored  to  her  confidence,  no 
doubt  he  had  the  wit  to  prove  the  treaty  made  in 
secret  with  Alp  Arslan  was  no  treachery — either  to 
the  kingdom  or  the  throne — but  how  did  he  win  her 
private  ear?    I  do  not  find  she  favours  him ;  indeed 


186  EUDOCIA 

my  friends  at  Court  assure  me  she  sees  little  of 
him." 

"That  is  true  enough,"  answered  John  Ducas. 
"To  me  he  shows  a  manner  very  urbane.  He's 
easy,  humorous  and  mild.  But  one  thing  troubles 
him.  He  told  me  frankly,  touching  Eudocia,  that 
in  the  ten  days  during  which  he  was  retired  she 
has  changed.  He  finds  her  lighter  and  strangely, 
unexpectedly  given  to  folly." 

"Trust  him  not,"  warned  the  other.  "If  he 
thought  her  wrong  he'd  keep  it  hid.  He  knows 
well  enough  what  is  afoot,  but  not  the  approaching 
day  and  hour  of  it." 

"But  does  he  know?"  asked  the  Caesar. 

"Most  certainly  he  does." 

"Then  he  may  approve — not  for  our  sakes,  but 
hers.  Is  it  not  possible  that,  looking  ahead,  and 
only  concerned  with  her  future  happiness,  he  al- 
ready feels  that  deposition  will  be  best?  To-day, 
unless  Xiphilin  fail,  we  shall  better  judge  his  true 
opinion.  The  Patriarch  has  speech  with  him  pres- 
ently, and  will  dig  deep.  He,  too,  goes  in  doubt 
what  means  this  return.  He  does  not  trust  Mce- 
phorus  in  anything,  but  is  determined  to  probe  him. 
The  old  man  made  no  demur,  and  willingly  agreed 
to  a  meeting." 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  187 

"Has  she  spoken  more  of  Romanus  Diogenes?" 
asked  Psellus. 

"She  avoids  the  subject.  There's  a  mystery 
hidden  there,  for  she  is  acting  out  of  her  character. 
She  was  always  quick  in  statecraft,  and  knows,  as 
well  as  we  do,  that  it  is  folly  to  keep  him  in  prison. 
But  thought  of  that  man  turns  her  to  stone.  I  have 
prayed  her  to  release  him,  and  so  have  you.  Our 
prayers,  I  think,  preserve  his  life,  but  cannot  win 
his  freedom.  I  had  not  thought  she  could  be  so 
hard." 

"Cannot  Bardas  serve  him  with  her?"  asked 
Psellus.  "He  was  a  close  friend  of  the  general, 
and  used  to  brag  about  it.  Now  they  tell  me  that 
Bardas  is  taken  into  Eudocia's  highest  favours." 

"Another  mystery.  She  always  despised  the 
man,  as  one  of  her  intellect  might  well  do;  but  now 
she  smiles  upon  him,  and  he  walks  two  inches 
taller." 

"Nicephorus  may  know  what's  in  her  heart," 
answered  the  Prime  Minister.  "I  hate  this  crawl- 
ing, baffling  uncertainty ;  but  a  week  hence  sees  all 
answered.  When  Eudocia's  gone,  Nicephorus  shall 
vanish  too— but  not  to  a  monastery." 

"He'll  drop  his  mask  to-day — if  indeed  he  wears 
one,"  said  the  Caesar.    "Xiphilin  is  in  earnest,  and 


188  EUDOCIA 

will  not  be  content  with  jests  at  life.  He'll  burrow 
to  the  bone  and  learn  what  Mcephorus  truly  feels 
about  the  things  that  are  to  happen." 

"His  great  forbearance  is  not  all  it  seems — be 
sure  of  that,"  replied  Psellus.  "I  do  not  hope  he 
will  declare  himself  on  our  side." 

"Your  sense  should  see  the  danger,  if  there  be 
one,"  declared  the  Caesar.  "You  have  the  genius 
to  don  another's  mental  garment  and  so  judge  an 
enemy's  designs." 

"I  cannot  don  his  mental  garment,"  confessed 
Psellus.  "If  he  means  to  oppose  he  must  have 
power;  but  wherein  lies  any  power  to  his  hand, 
seeing  that  the  Senate  and  the  army  are  ours?  Yet 
I  do  not  trust  him." 

"Do  you  trust  Xiphilin?"  whispered  John  Ducas, 
first  gazing  over  his  shoulder  to  see  none  might 
overhear  the  question. 

The  younger  frowned  and  hesitated  before  re- 
plying; but  an  answer  was  not  given,  for  now 
suddenly  appeared  Michael  Ducas  with  his 
attendant. 

Csesar  smiled  and  took  the  boy's  hand,  while 
Psellus  saluted  his  future  monarch. 

"And  has  the  Empress  set  out,  Michael  boy?" 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  189 

asked  John  Ducas.  "Yet  I  need  not  ask:  I  hear 
her  trumpets." 

"They  are  coming,  but  the  bonny  hawks  do  not 
fly  to-day,"  explained  Michael.  "This  is  the  day 
of  the  vintage,  and  my  mother  will  pluck  red  and 
white  grapes  with  her  own  hand,  and  the  wine  they 
make  will  be  royal.  And  we  go  among  the  people 
and  scatter  money,  and  they  sing  their  songs  to 
us." 

"We  shall  be  there,"  promised  the  Caesar.  "Re- 
member to  find  a  rare  bunch  for  me,  Michael." 

"So  I  will  then,  Uncle  John,"  answered  the 
Prince,  "but  the  best  and  biggest  bunch  of  all  I 
find  I  shall  keep  for  my  mother." 

The  men  departed  to  pursue  their  subject,  and 
Saurus  spoke  to  Michael. 

"Forget  not  to  pluck  for  Theodora,"  he  said. 
"She  will  have  none  to  pick  for  her  to-day." 

"I'm  sorry — very  sorry,  Lizard ;  but  I'll  not  pick 
for  her.    She's  my  friend  no  more." 

"Why?    You  are  fickle,  Prince." 

"My  friends  must  be  happy.  Theodora's  grown 
strange  and  sad.  I  hate  sad  people — they  are  so 
dull." 

The  guard  entered  and  took  open  order  about  the 


190  EUDOCIA 

glade.  Then  followed  pages  and  servants  laden 
with  cushions  and  rugs,  tables  and  plate  to  set  upon 
them.  Wine  and  fruit,  cakes  and  sweetmeats  were 
spread  out,  and  the  place  transformed  as  though 
by  magic.  After  ten  minutes  all  had  been  com- 
pleted, and  a  little  silver  throne  set  for  Eudocia  in 
the  midst.  Then  came  the  silver  trumpets  and  men 
on  horseback  led  by  the  Protostrator.  Eudocia 
rode  a  black  Arab,  whereon  her  scarlet  robe  flashed 
like  a  fire;  Theodora,  Maria  and  Euphrosyne  also 
rode,  but  Dame  Irene  came  in  a  litter  borne  by 
four.  All  dismounted  as  the  Senate  arrived,  and 
Eudocia  welcomed  old  and  young  with  animation 
and  a  heart  far  lighter  than  her  counsellors 
guessed.  For  the  elders  were  aware  of  the  ap- 
proaching stroke,  and  few  believed  that  the  Em- 
press herself  could  be  ignorant  that  her  downfall 
must  now  be  a  matter  of  days. 

The  Court  assembled  round  the  Queen.  The 
horses  were  led  away.  Having  seen  a  purple  awn- 
ing quickly  lifted,  for  protection  against  the 
westering  sun,  Bardas  took  his  place  on  a  cushion 
beside  the  throne.  Irene  was  favoured  with  a 
couch,  but  the  rest  sat  or  stood,  while  refreshments 
were  handed  to  all  who  cared  to  partake  of  them. 
Then  there  was  movement,  and  while  they  waited 
Eudocia's  signal  for  the  vineyards,  men  and  women 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  191 

strolled  together,  some  examining  the  mossy  marble 
Dionysus  amid  his  fallen  pillars,  some  walking 
under  the  shadow  of  the  myrtles,  or  plucking  rosy 
clusters  of  oleander  bloom.  In  the  sky  was  the  first 
tinge  of  evening  gold,  but  the  heat  had  not  yet 
abated,  and  Eudocia  delayed  awhile,  to  the  sat- 
isfaction of  those  old  men  who  shared  the 
ceremonial. 


§  2 


"Come,  Theodora,  sit  by  me,"  said  Eudocia,  while 
the  many-coloured  movement  of  her  guests  made 
the  dingle  as  bright  as  a  rainbow.  "We'll  rest  a 
little  while,  then  seek  the  grapes  that  Dionysus 
sent  to  help  the  world's  goodwill." 

Her  tire-woman,  whose  countenance  was  sad, 
approached  and  Bardas  jumped  up  with  show  of 
courtesy  to  make  room  for  her,  while  Eudocia 
winced  to  see  the  pain  in  the  girl's  face. 

"We'll  speak  together  presently,"  she  said.  "I'll 
bid  them  go  without  us." 

But  Theodora  alike  ignored  her  lover  and  the 
Empress.  She  sat  silent  and  melancholy  beside 
Eudocia's  footstall. 

Then  it  was  that  from  the  chatter  about  the 
throne  young  Michael  spoke. 


192  EUDOCIA 

"Let  me  see  the  lovely  dagger  that  my  mother 
gave  you,  Bardas?"  he  said. 

The  Protostrator  handed  him  a  brilliant  toy  set 
with  gems  and  having  a  haft  and  sheath  of  gold. 

"Take  care  of  the  blade,  my  Prince;  it  has  a 
double  edge,"  he  said. 

"It  is  not  as  sharp  as  mine,"  declared  the  boy. 

"Shall  you  do  aught  with  it  but  cut  your  nails?" 
asked  Saurus  of  the  Queen's  new  favourite,  and 
Bardas,  who  hated  the  dwarf,  having  no  ready 
answer,  scowled  at  him. 

The  people  came  and  went,  and  certain  eminent 
men  whom  she  had  not  yet  welcomed  were  pre- 
sented to  the  Empress.  She  was  very  gracious  to 
all  and  greeted  her  guests  gladly. 

"What  of  the  royal  vintage?"  she  asked  Bardas. 

"All  that's  good,"  he  answered.  "It  flows 
abundantly — a  most  generous  year.  There  shall  be 
enough  of  your  imperial,  golden  wine  for  all  the 
mighty  of  the  East  to  drink." 

"Pray  we  do  not  brew  for  our  enemies.  It  is 
their  blood  we  should  lap,  rather  than  wine," 
growled  the  Lizard ;  and  Bardas,  who  desired  to  be 
even  with  him,  scolded  the  little  man. 

"Weigh  your  words  better,  reptile,"  he  said. 

"Fear  not.  I  learned  to  weigh  them  at  my 
mother's  knee,"  answered  Saurus  sharply,  "and 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  193 

when  I  failed  to  weigh  them  I  weighed  her  hand  on 
my  ear.    But  no  man  shall  weigh  your  words." 

"And  why  not,  imp?" 

"Because  they  never  weighed  a  poppy-seed,  and 
never  will." 

"Think  not  because  you  cannot  understand  it 
that  a  word  is  of  necessity  light,"  replied  Bardas 
loftily.  "Men  do  not  always  mould  their  meaning 
to  the  wit  of  mice.  The  great  must  weigh  their 
words:  it  is  a  part  of  greatness  to  do  so,  knowing 
what  they  utter  will  cast  down,  or  raise  up,  and  be 
the  voice  of  prophecy  for  lesser  men  to  mark." 

Eudocia  smiled  upon  him. 

"Bardas,  your  speech  is  ever  native  music, 
whether  you  weigh  your  words  or  no,"  she  said. 
"Saurus  flings  his  thoughts  like  stones  from  a  cata- 
pult, caring  not  what  suffers." 

"Indeed  his  aim  is  wild,"  declared  Irene.  "But 
they  promise  that  our  armies  shall  drink  blood 
enough  ere  long." 

"We  have  not  yet  forgot  the  road  to  fame  and 
glory  too,"  said  Bardas. 

"A  road  seldom  strewn  with  silken  cushions, 
however,"  snapped  Saurus. 

"Shall  our  throne  never  know  glory  and  fame?" 
asked  the  Empress;  and  Saurus  replied: 

"Glory  and  fame,  Majesty?     What  are  they? 


194  EUDOCIA 

Glory's  the  lightning  flash  against  a  storm  cloud 
and  fame  the  thunder-clap  that  follows.  They  make 
us  jump — that's  all — and  then  both  are  gone, 
helter-skelter,  and  clean  forgotten  in  an  hour." 

"You  tell  of  false  glory  and  false  fame,  manni- 
kin,"  answered  Irene.  "Fame  is  slow-footed;  it 
follows  conquest  from  afar,  tardily,  doubtfully, 
marking  what  is  lost,  what  gained.  Fame  is  a 
cautious  thing." 

"Death  and  great  deeds  are  nought  to  it,"  added 
the  solemn  maiden,  Maria.  "No,  nor  wreaths  of 
oak  and  laurel.  Long  years  must  pass  and  a  man 
be  dust  before  the  world  can  tell  the  truth  of  what 
his  own  generation  thought  too  great,  or  held  too 
little." 

"That  is  time's  ultimate  justice,  Maria,  not 
fame,"  answered  Eudocia.  "Fame  is  a  frenzied 
thing,  born  of  immense  actions  and  the  rise  and  fall 
of  dynasties  and  empires.  It  is  a  pulse  of  a  nation's 
heart,  a  tempest,  a  convulsion.  It  is  the  wail  of 
nations  at  the  chariot  wheels  of  conquerors;  the 
smile  of  the  world;  the  universal  tribute  poured 
out  for  saviours  and  heroes,  alive  or  dead.  Fame's 
triumph  song  soars  to  the  stars.  Oh,  would  that 
we  might  hear  such  music!" 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  195 

"When  God  so  wills,  we  shall,"  promised  Bardas. 
"Peace  claims  her  victories  too,  Eudocia  Augusta." 

"And  whither  do  they  lead  but  to  gorged  sleep?" 
asked  Saurus. 

"Sting  no  more,  bitter  midge,"  answered  the 
noble.  "Leave  politics:  the  game's  not  worth  the 
candle.  They  blot  the  purity  and  emasculate  the 
joy  of  life.  Remember,  too,  there  are  spies  behind 
every  grass-blade.  Who  can  say,  among  those  bent 
heads  hobbling  behind  us  in  the  ruins,  where 
treason  lurks?  Yonder  marble  god  sneers  at  the 
pack  of  them." 

Michael's  treble  pipe  filled  a  silence.  He  sat 
beside  Theodora. 

"Play  at  cat's  cradle  with  me,  Theo,  till  we 
start,"  he  begged. 

But  the  lady  shook  her  head. 

"Nay,  dear  Prince.    Ask  Gregoria." 

Michael  snorted  impatiently. 

"You  never  grant  the  least  small  thing,  Theo- 
dora. Instead  you  mop  your  eyes,  and  soon  you'll 
cry  all  the  blue  out  of  them." 

Theodora  turned  away  at  this  rebuke,  and 
Eudocia,  rising,  concealed  her  friend's  confusion." 

"Away  into  the  vineyards!"  she  said.     "Let  all 


196  I   IDOCIA 

:•.,.  .in.l  we  shall  quickly  follow  Despatch  t lit* 
guard,  loo,  Itardus,  and  give  Ihem  leave  lo  pluck 
and  1111  t  1m  ir  helmets." 

-Hurrah!"  shouted  Michael.  "Come  on,  Liiard, 
I  know   where  Ihe  fattest  hunchcH  han-  " 

lie  was  oil  llrsl  of  Ihe  throng,  :iml  Ihe  glittering 
concourHe  rolled  away  ;  while  Kudocin's  guard, 
thrusting  (heir  spears  in  ;i  ring  where  I  hey  had 
slood,  followed  tifter.  A  shoul  greeted  Ihe  com 
puny  an  i!  entered  Ihe  vineyards  and  tillered  here 
and  then*  among  Ihe  laneH  of  Ihe  vines.  They  were 
si  rung  on  low  t  rcllises  as  high  as  a  man's  waist,  and 
Ihe  folk  gathered,  then  transferred  Ihe  contents  of 
their  hand  baskets  lo  great  wains  that  waited  for 
Ihe  harvest. 

"Now,  pretty  one,"  said  the  Kmpress,  when  she 
and  Theodora  sat  alone,  "come  close,  closer,  and 
put  your  hand  in  mine  and  (ell  me  tin1  meaning  of 
these  many  tears,  thai  Michael  says  will  drown  (he 
blue  of  your  dear  eyes.  Woman  to  womun,  Theo- 
dora, and  friend  to  friend." 

"Woman   lo  woman,  Majesty?" 

"Kvcn  so.  I  know  yon  are  unhappy.  Now  hare 
your  heart  to  me  and  all  ils  aches;  and  tell  me, 
tirst,  why  have  1  lost  your  love,  Theodora?" 

"l>o  you   need   (o  ask?     Woman   lo  woman,  you 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  197 

know  right  well,  Eudocia.  I  tell  you  it  is  a  cruel,  a 
wicked  thing  that  you  are  doing — to  lift  him  up  to 
dream  idle,  idiot  dreams.  They  are  such  visions  as 
his  own  nature  is  only  too  prone  to  play  with.  And 
what  man  would  not  dream  under  such  temptation? 
You  are  fooling  him — why,  God  knows — and  I  must 
submit  to  see  all — all  that  makes  my  life  and  hope 
— tortured  for  royal  whims.  And  worse  than  that : 
you  turn  the  man  into  a  gull  and  laughing-stock 
for  the  Court.  Oh,  I  could  hate  him  now,  for  show- 
ing himself  a  blind  fool,  if  I  did  not  already  love 
him  so  dearly  for  being  himself.  It  is  you  who 
bewitch  him,  transform  him  into  something  he  was 
not — beat  a  deadly  light  upon  him.  Yet  how  can 
I  scorn  where  I  have  so  deeply  loved?  How  can  I 
do  less  than  weep  my  soul  away  to  see  him  turned 
into  a  puppet,  dancing  on  your  tune?  Woman  to 
woman,  you  have  come  between  this  man  and  me, 
great  Queen,  in  fashion  most  unqueenly.  You  bade 
me  speak ;  now  punish  me,  destroy  me ;  I  care  not." 
"Theodora,"  said  the  Empress  gently,  "we  have 
been  precious  friends  since  we  were  little,  happy 
girls  together.  And  I  remember  how  once  we  fell 
out  bitterly  about  a  doll.  Who  suffered  then?  The 
doll,  not  our  love.  The  poor  toy  came  in  half  be- 
tween our  furious  hands;  and  when  we  found  the 


198  EUDOCIA 

stuff  our  puppet  was  made  of,  common  disgust 
made  us  kiss  again.  We  swore  eternal  devotion 
over  the  mommet's  ruin." 

"A  man  is  not  a  doll  stuffed  with  bran,  Majesty." 

"Few  men  are  stuffed  with  trash  so  honest. 
Would  you  keep  all  his  laughter  and  jests — his 
merry  eyes  and  his  merry  melodies  to  yourself 
alone?  Must  love  be  so  greedy,  Theodora?  Why 
may  not  I  win  some  pleasure  from  my  Protostrator 
too?" 

"What  pleasure?  You  would  make  him  your 
lover." 

Eudocia  frowned  and  flushed. 

"You  speak  to  the  Empress,"  she  said.  "Have 
a  care,  Theodora.  Your  anger  bears  an  evil  sting 
of  insult." 

Theodora  turned  her  sad  eyes  to  the  earth. 

"  Woman  to  woman' — so  you  bade  me  speak, 
Majesty." 

"I  forgive.  You  had  forgot  my  oath,  perchance, 
and  trusted  to  your  jealous  eyes;  but  from  this 
day,  pretty  one,  believe  my  words  are  truer  than 
your  sight." 

"The  wrong  to  him  remains,"  murmured 
Theodora. 

"  'The  wrong  to  him?'    Our  wrongs  come  from 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  199 

within — so  we  are  taught.  If  Bardas  loves  you,  as 
an  honest  man  loves  a  woman,  his  heart  is  surely 
steeled  against  all  syrens,  Theodora — against  the 
wiles  of  every  other  woman  in  the  world.  Tell  me 
how  he  has  changed  to  you." 

"He  avoids  me  like  the  pestilence,  in  natural 
fear  that  you " 

"Think  no  such  foolish  thought,  child.  I  do  not 
rob  my  subjects,  and  he  knows  it." 

"Have  you  not  robbed  me  of  my  old  respect  and 
trust,  Eudocia?  Have  you  not  changed  the  aspect 
of  Bardas  to  my  vision?" 

"Why,  that's  serious,"  admitted  the  other. 
"But  you  must  build  upon  his  actions,  not  mine. 
It  is  certain  that  I  could  not  take  from  you  any- 
thing you  possessed,  Theodora." 

"Oh,  Majesty,  be  reasonable,"  begged  the  un- 
happy maiden.  "Who,  then,  has  taken  from  me 
what  I  possessed?  Who  but  you — you,  who  once 
treated  him  harshly,  indifferently,  and  when  I 
rejoiced  to  win  his  love,  though  living  kindness  to 
me  in  all  else,  were  vexed  and  cold  to  hear  my  great 
news?  Men  are  but  men.  Who  is  there  but  must 
run  when  Eudocia  beckons?" 

"Respect  him,  then,  no  less  and  blame  him  no 
more,"  answered  the  monarch.    "If  he  has  but  done 


200  EUDOCIA 

what  any  man  would  do,  who  shall  censure 
him?" 

"This  is  to  play  with  words,  as  you  are  playing 
with  me,"  sighed  Theodora.  "I  love  him,  Queen. 
He  swore  to  me  that  life  was  death  apart  from  me ; 
but  now " 

"If  I  were  in  love "  began  Eudocia;  and  the 

other  interrupted : 

"You  are.  Do  I  not  know  the  signs — I,  who 
have  endured  all  their  sweet  and  sour,  felt  them 
burn  through  me,  and  fought  to  hide  that  I  was 
on  fire?" 

"Why,  then,  it  is  for  you  to  pity  me,  not  I,  you," 
replied  the  Empress.  "Answer  now  this  question : 
have  I  once  broken  word  to  you  in  all  our  lives, 
Theodora?" 

"No,  never  once." 

"Then  I  promise  this.  You  shall  be  the  wife  of 
Bardas,  if  anon  you  come  to  me  and  say  you  will 
to  wed  him.  And  of  all  my  summer  palaces  you 
shall  choose  for  my  wedding  gift  which  you  will." 

"I  thank  your  generous  Majesty.  But  how  shall 
I  wed  him  if  his  love  be  dead?" 

"If  his  love  were  dead,  you  would  not  wed  him, 
even  though  I  commanded  it.  I  know  my  Theodora 
and  her  pride.     Her  pride  first  won  me.     Think 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  201 

this :  his  love  is  lulled  to  sleep  by  potent  charms — 
not  mine,  Theodora,  not  mine;  but  potions  brewed 
for  other  ends  than  his  delight,  or  yours.  Wait  and 
be  patient  a  little  longer  until  Bardas  wakens. 
Hold  him  but  as  a  slumberer,  who  presently  will 
move  and  rouse  and  rub  his  eyes  and  see  Theodora 
standing  beside  his  couch  in  silence,  until  his 
dreams  are  ended. 

"Men  are  like  butterflies,  while  we  women 
nearlier  resemble  ants.  The  butterfly,  finding  an 
open  flower,  will  only  rest  there  while  the  sun 
shares  his  bright  throne.  When  the  cloud-shadow 
falls,  he's  away  to  seek  the  golden  light  again,  my 
Theodora.  Men,  you  shall  find,  are  greater  slaves 
to  pursuit  of  happiness  than  we.  But  if  an  ant 
meets  some  small  treasure,  how  she  cleaves  to  it 
through  foul  weather,  or  fair!  How  presently, 
with  toil  enormous,  she  drags  it  to  her  nest,  or 
breaks  her  heart  in  trying.  .  .  .  You,  too,  shall 
have  your  treasure  in  your  nest,  love,  if  you  still 
desire  it  when  this  tale  is  told,  and  all  eyes  are 
opened.  Be  very  silent,  very  secret,  very  brave. 
Kiss  me  now,  woman  to  woman,  please." 

Nicephorus  approached  the  Empress.  He  walked 
slowly,  clad  in  his  white  toga. 

"Join  the  vintagers  and  be  of  good  cheer.    Still 


202  EUDOCIA 

think  him  dreaming,  and  trouble  him  not  until  he 
wakes." 

"You  give  me  back  my  heart,  kind  Majesty," 
murmured  the  stricken  maiden. 

"I  wish  I  could,"  answered  Eudocia.  "Perhaps 
some  day  you'll  tell  me  that  with  deeper  gratitude 
than  now.  Keep  your  heart  safe,  Theo,  and  treas- 
ure it  for  him  that's  worthy  of  it." 


§  3 

The  girl  went  her  way  with  braver  tread,  mysti- 
fied indeed,  yet  happier  than  she  had  been  for  many 
days;  while  the  Empress  turned  impatiently  to  her 
old  minister. 

"The  sad,  tender  child!"  she  cried.  "It  is  a  bit- 
ing shame  that  she  is  called  to  suffer  so.  I've 
wrecked  her  happiness,  and  see  her  daily  fretting 
out  her  heart  for  that  base  fool." 

"Which  fool?"  asked  Mcephorus.  "There  are 
so  many  and  various  at  Court.  But  you  mean  your 
Protostrator.  Well,  is  she  blinded  with  her  tears? 
Can  she  not  perceive  that  you  have  mercifully 
rescued  her  from  a  bad  mating?  If  she  has  not 
thanked  you  yet,  surely  she  must." 

"I  am  at  the  limit  of  my  endurance,  and  will 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  203 

play  actress  but  little  longer,"  she  assured  him. 
"Bardas  is  terrible  to  me — his  smiles  and  dreadful 
gallantries.  When  he  was  timid  one  suffered 
enough;  but  now  that  he  has  grown  bold,  poor 

man !     But  where  is  Romanus?     Now's  the 

hour  and  time  appointed.  Oh,  I  know  he  is  near, 
Nicephorus !  The  birds  are  singing  out  his  blessed 
name  on  every  bough." 

"And  men  are  speaking  it.  Things  rush  swiftly 
to  the  climax.  Only  your  nuptials  now  stand  be- 
tween you  and  destruction." 

"Time  will  right  all.  But  let  me  forget  every- 
thing with  him  for  one  little  minute,"  she  begged. 

"Forget  nothing,  Queen.  He  had  my  ruby,  and 
came  down  your  rope-ladder  last  night." 

"He's  near!    He's  near!" 

"Yes — picking  grapes  with  an  earth-stained  face, 
disguised  as  a  vintager." 

"Can  anything  disguise  him?" 

"Even  heroes  depend  a  little  on  their  daily  shards 
to  show  the  men  they  are.  Smeared  with  mother 
earth  in  rustic  clouts,  your  general  hoodwinks  all 
eyes  but  God's.  The  Lizard  is  bringing  him  up  the 
watercourse,  and  you  will  be  safe  here  for  a  few 
brief  moments.  But  run  no  risks,  for  we  are  at  the 
climax  of  the  plot  now.    The  Patriarch  will  come 


204  EUDOCIA 

anon  to  worm  the  truth  out  of  me — little  dreaming 
that  Satan  lies  in  wait  for  him  as  well  as  I.  The 
others  hope  to  win  me  as  an  issue  to  our  duel. 
Why,  Eudocia,  must  falsehood  ever  travel  hand  in 
hand  with  State  affairs?  Why  can  man  never  ac- 
complish his  great  national  or  international  .issues 
without  lying?  Why  are  our  leaders  ever  liars 
too?" 

"Nations  trust  their  leaders  because  they  must. 
Every  storm  comes  to  a  head;  every  tumult  and 
tribulation  reaches  its  summit,  like  the  foam  of  a 
bending  wave.  There  will  ever  be  the  mighty  few 
who  lead,"  she  answered. 

"Yet,  till  they  are  all  hanged,  the  humble  many 
will  know  no  peace." 

"Mankind  needs  leaders,  but  ever  lacks  quality 
of  judgment  to  choose  his  leaders,"  she  declared. 

"It  is  not  that,"  he  told  her.  "They  often  choose 
wisely ;  but  there  is  an  awful  sleight  in  possession 
of  power  to  modify  character  and,  in  politics,  to 
weaken  a  man's  honour.  He  comes  to  it  burning 
with  high  ideals,  thirsting  to  better  the  lot  of  the 
nation  and  the  nation's  people.  Then  steals  the 
poison  into  his  heart,  and  he  finds  that,  as  in  art, 
the  medium  kills  inspiration;  so  in  politics  the 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  205 

possible  is  ever  at  odds  with  the  desirable.  Be- 
tween 'practical  politics,'  as  we  call  them,  and  ideal 
legislation,  there  is  a  gulf  fixed,  and  in  that  gulf 
the  souls  of  many  men  are  lost." 

"Until  we  will  to  work  in  the  light,  it  must  ever 
be  so,"  admitted  Eudocia. 

"And  the  answer  to  that  is  this :  While  the  staple 
of  every  nation  is  its  fools,  we  cannot  work  in  the 
light.  Human  ignorance,  human  passions,  human 
greed  are  the  obstacles,  and  the  highest  appeal,  the 
noblest  conviction  ever  falls  upon  the  deafest  ears. 
To  enter  politics  is,  at  best,  to  make  a  compact 
with  the  Evil  One,  and  to  endanger  our  immortal 
part.  Yet  who  fears  the  peril,  or  sees  it  till  too 
late?" 

"Bardas  smiles  and  gambols  like  a  monkey  on 
a  pole,"  she  said.  "Yet  blood  is  thicker  than  water. 
He's  true  brother  to  Xiphilin  at  the  core,  and 
already  talks  of  power." 

"Dangerous  operations  are  performed  with  little 
knives,"  answered  the  old  man.  "Humour  him  but 
a  short  time  longer  after  you  are  free — if,  indeed, 
you  are  freed.  Within  an  hour  we  may  know  the 
best  or  worst" 

"God  sharpen  your  wits,"  she  said  earnestly. 


206  EUDOCIA 

"Pray  that  he  will  dull  Xiphilin's.  I  may  mis- 
read the  Patriarch.  Here  comes  Saurus.  Be  wise 
and  speedy.    We  run  a  needless  risk." 

"No,  no,"  she  declared.  "I'll  but  look  into  his 
eyes  and  listen  to  his  voice  a  moment,  for  thence  all 
my  strength  and  courage  spring." 

"Doubtful  fountains  when  a  man's  in  love,"  he 
answered.  Then  spoke  Saurus,  who  had  appeared 
behind  the  ruined  temple,  and  now  approached 
them. 

"The  general's  here,"  he  said. 

"Post  yourself  by  the  cypress  clump,  my  friend, 
for  that's  the  way  Xiphilin  must  come  to  the 
tryst,"  answered  Mcephorus.  "Scream  like  a  pea- 
cock when  he  approaches,  and  the  sound  will  dis- 
miss Romanus  and  summon  me." 

They  departed  then,  Mcephorus  towards  the 
vineyards  and  the  Lizard  in  an  opposite  direction. 
Even  as  they  did  so,  there  broke  a  great,  ragged 
figure  from  the  oleanders  and  Eudocia  leapt  to  his 
arms.  Behind  the  low  shrubs  and  broken  marble 
they  were  hidden. 

"My  life,  as  a  beggar  man  I  come,"  he  said. 

"Dear  pagan  treasure!  Oh,  Romanus,  why  can 
we  never  meet  but  one  of  us  is  mumming?  First  it 
was  I,  as  a  cup  bearer,  and  now  my  joy  is  stained 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  207 

like  a  peasant,  and  his  limbs  hung  with  horrid 
tatters.  Let  me  wash  your  face  and  dry  it  with  my 
handkerchief,  my  brown  baby!" 

"Nay,  I  must  be  hid  a  little  longer  yet.  I  have 
the  advantage  to-day,  for  I  see  you  as  you  are.  Oh, 
to  hear  that  ring  of  heavenly  bells  men  call  your 
voice,  Eudocia — to  look  upon  your  loveliness!  But 
you're  pale,  my  golden  bird." 

"Only  with  happiness.  How  did  you  fare?  Did 
the  guards  note  you?" 

"Indeed  they  did,  cursed  me  for  a  cur,  and  bade 
me  join  the  army  like  a  man,  not  pull  grapes  like  a 
woman.  I  growled  an  oath  at  the  brave  lads  and 
slunk  away  from  them." 

"If  they  had  known  that  under  that  ragged  coat 
beat  the  heart  they  love!"  she  cried.  "There's  sad 
unrest  amid  your  Varangian  men — they  who  call 
themselves  English.    Alas!  they  hate  my  name." 

"They'll  bless  it  soon.  They  set  me  high,  but 
not  as  high  as  I  set  them,  my  dearest  treasure. 
They  are  a  people  unlike  others,  and  have  that  the 
rest  of  savages  lack.  Where,  in  its  fog  and  naked- 
ness, lies  the  far  off,  desert  isle  that  spills  them  into 
civilisation,  I  know  not ;  but  this  I  know :  they  have 
a  trick  to  fight  with  such  a  leaven  of  mirth  in  their 
fury  that  the  world  fears  them.    They  kill  laughing, 


208  EUDOCIA 

and  laughing  die.  Their  quality  terrifies  and 
maddens  common  men.  Michael's  heavenly  host 
never  took  such  a  joy  of  battle  as  these." 

Eudocia  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  and 
looked  into  his  face. 

"If  all  goes  ill,"  she  said,  "you  shall  be  free  to- 
morrow to  join  them  and  fight  for  Psellus  and 
Xiphilin  against  me." 

"My  life!  What  thoughts!  Nought  can  go  ill. 
Mcephorus,  so  the  Lizard  tells  me,  reasons  with  the 
Patriarch  in  this  hour." 

"He  does.  The  sweet  air  will  reek  with  lies. 
This  image  of  Bacchus  will  tremble  before  such 
falsity.  The  wholesome  grass  will  be  parched  for 
a  breath  of  truth.  Oh,  Romanus,  it  is  not  the  least 
of  Eudocia's  griefs,  that  even  the  happiest  future 
she  can  dream  must  be  built  on  falsehood,  founded 
upon  fraud.    Yet  so  only  can  Mcephorus  triumph." 

"Trust  Heaven,  paragon  of  women,"  he  an- 
swered. "Trust  Heaven  to  order  all  things  rightly. 
Life  is  a  mystery,  and  only  mental  weaklings  make 
too  deep  and  curious  search  into  the  springs  of 
action.  When  a  lily  opens  her  white  chalice,  do 
the  honey  bees  who  sing  there  and  gather  her  sweet 
provender,  dazed  with  the  scent  and  lustre  of  her 
glory,  stop  to  think  the  lovely  thing  is  eating  ugly 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  209 

food  under  the  earth?  God  is  a  conjuror,  and  from 
our  human  weakness  and  necessity  can  bring  forth 
noble  and  gracious  actions.  All  tragedy,  my 
Queen,  is  based  on  blind-eyed  error,  human  limita- 
tions; and  the  heavenly  need  for  faulty  man  to 
suffer  sorrow,  grief  and  wrong. 

"Yet,  out  of  his  torments  and  the  far-off  crimes 
of  mighty  agonists,  we  pluck  the  divine  flower  of 
art,  whose  tonic  beauty  lifts  our  souls  to  courage 
and  endurance;  heals,  fortifies  and  teaches  us  to 
face  our  own  little  lives  and  make  them  greater." 

His  arms  were  round  her,  her  head  upon  his 
ragged  breast. 

"Ah!"  she  said,  "within  this  circle  the  world 
looks  different  to  my  eyes  and  unfriendly  fortune 
shrinks  away.  I  am  brave  again,  Romanus ;  but  it 
chills  my  spirit,  boy,  that  we  must  be  so  beholden 
to  another — older  and  wiser  than  we.  I  had  loved 
to  think  that  you  and  I — we  two — were  strong 
enough  to  beard  a  thousand  Xiphilins." 

"We  are,"  he  answered.  "And  so  he'll  find  us. 
If  Nicephorus  fails  in  comedy,  as  well  he  may  with 
that  iron-fronted,  solemn  soul,  then  with  tragedy 
we  will  tempt  our  star — aye,  Eudocia,  and  act  a 
tale  for  the  poets  to  embalm,  when  we  have  lived 
it  out  to  the  glorious  dregs !    Your  throne  is  greater 


210  EUDOCIA 

far  than  my  love  for  it;  your  crown  shall  never 
touch  another  head  while  I  am  on  earth." 

"Great  lover!  My  own!  Romanus,  you  are 
dearer  than  any  crown  to  me.  You  are  my  crown. 
And  I  am  blessed  and  happy  at  least  in  this :  that 
love  and  honour  point  one  way  for  both  of  us.  I 
would  give  my  life  for  my  people,  and  will  do  so 
when  they  demand  it ;  I  would  hide  for  ever  behind 
convent  walls  for  them  if  duty  called  me  there; 
but  no  shadow  beckons  that  way,  for  well  I  know 
the  State  would  live  again  if  you  were  Emperor." 

"The  people  would  be  no  enemies  to  me  if  I  were 
beside  your  throne." 

"They  should  not,  but  they  might,"  she  answered. 
"For  Xiphilin  to  them  is  the  mouthpiece  of  the 
Eternal.  Therefore  it  comes  back  to  him.  If  he 
thundered  against  you  in  the  name  of  righteous- 
ness, they  would  echo  him,  and  curse  you,  and  call 
God's  wrath  upon  me  for  loving  you." 

"Do  not  fear  the  people,"  he  urged.  "It  is  a 
people's  way  before  all  else  to  ask  a  sign.  They 
reverence  deeds  and  welcome  the  appeal  to  their 
seven  senses.  Soldiers  have  taught  me  that.  Action 
they  account  better  than  windy  threats  of  power 
unseen.  The  free  man  is  no  more  superstitious 
than  the  ox  or  ass.    If  you  would  banish  from  this 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  211 

nation  the  poisoned  terrors  that  your  hierophants 
are  skilled  to  plant  in  its  heart,  exhibit  stirring 
deeds  and  doughty  men  who  do  not  fear  liberty. 
Once,  Eudocia,  when  a  pagan  legion  dreaded  the 
foe,  they  erected  an  altar  to  their  heathen  gods, 
then  walked  round  it,  whimpering  like  a  pack  of 
frightened  girls.  Thereon  I  challenged  them  and 
destroyed  their  altar  and  spat  upon  it.  They  stood 
in  the  extremity  of  panic  terror,  and  were  tempted 
to  cast  down  their  arms  and  fly.  But,  seeing  that 
no  almighty  hand  struck  me  to  death  for  impiety, 
they  took  heart,  cried  out  that  their  god  was  dead, 
found  they  must  trust  their  own  might,  and  so 
swept  to  battle  like  a  hurricane,  and  conquered. 
But  plague  upon  me  to  waste  our  time  with  war. 
Come  one  little  moment — here,  close  upon  my  knee 
and  let  me  hear  all  the  East  tell  me  she  loves  me." 

He  sat  upon  a  fallen  pillar  with  the  Empress  in 
his  arms. 

"Love  you !  Where's  the  human  word  can  voice 
a  tiny  part  of  all  I  hold  for  you,  Romanus?  It 
would  task  a  mightier  speech  than  mine.  Only 
Nature  could  echo  all  you  have  kindled  in  one  small 
heart.  Her  wordless  speech  will  best  tell  it.  Listen 
to  the  sea  kissing  your  stormy  cage  on  Marmora; 
to  the  deep  and  gentle  thunder  that  melts  along  the 


212  EUDOCIA 

mountains  tenderly  on  feverish  nights,  and  the 
wind  whispering  at  your  casement,  and  the  angel 
of  the  rain.  Their  unfettered  voices  can  tell  my 
love  better  than  I." 

"The  music  of  all  these  things  shall  be  multiplied 
a  millionfold  in  sweetness  since  you  have  named 
them.  Henceforth  they  will  mean  your  lips,  my 
Queen !" 

"You  speak  of  deeds,"  she  said.  "And  for  that 
I  most  adore  you.    The  purpose  should " 

From  the  distance  came  the  harsh  shriek  of  a 
peacock. 

"The  cruel  signal  comes!"  he  murmured. 

"I  always  hated  peacocks,  and  now  they  shall  be 
birds  of  ill-omen.  Say  it  was  not  Saurus,  but  some 
real  feathered  wretch  who  cried." 

Again  the  hidden  dwarf  uttered  his  warning,  and 
Eudocia  rose. 

"Tell  me  that  you  are  happier  before  I  go,"  he 
begged. 

"Happier  far,"  she  assured  him.  "Happier  than 
I  have  been  for  many  a  cloudy  day,  Romanus. 
Happier  for  knowing  that  neither  you  nor  I  desert 
the  Throne.  We  will  be  faithful.  Let  me  steal  a 
tiny  way  beside  you  for  good  fortune." 

"But  a  short  distance,  my  blessed  flower.     My 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  213 

hiding  place  is  too  thorny  for  your  delicate  petals. 
I  lie  where  this  streamlet  empties  to  the  sea,  and 
after  dark  the  Lizard  brings  a  boat  to  row  me  back 
to  red  Malthus.  He  will  endure  some  evil  hours 
until  I'm  safe  again." 

They  crept  beyond  the  ruin,  and  a  moment  later 
there  appeared  two  deacons  and  a  cross-bearer,  who 
walked  before  the  Patriarch.  At  the  same  moment 
Nicephorus  approached  from  the  direction  of  the 
vineyards,  whence  still  arose  the  sound  of  many 
voices,  and  the  snatches  of  folk  song. 

§  4 

Thus  met  the  man  in  black  and  the  man  in  white. 

At  a  signal  his  cross-bearer  and  deacons  with- 
drew, and  Xiphilin  turned  to  the  familiar  figure. 
He  was  bent  upon  some  understanding,  and  de- 
signed to  thrust  the  statesman  into  a  position  from 
which  he  could  make  no  escape  without  an  expres- 
sion of  his  opinions.  Now,  however,  the  Patriarch's 
own  diplomacy  was  blocked,  and  he  found  himself 
moving  over  new  and  uneven  ground.  He  designed 
to  attack ;  instead  he  was  soon  upon  the  defensive. 

"Speak  your  whole  mind  in  open  ears,"  said 
Nicephorus.     "I   desire  nothing  better   than   an 


214  EUDOCIA 

understanding,  and  would  wish,  despite  the  past,  to 
think  that  we  shared  at  least  one  ambition :  to  serve 
the  State." 

"I  am  a  man  to  whom  guile  and  stealth  are 
anathema,"  answered  Xiphilin.  "I  offer  no  excuse 
for  what  I  strove  to  do,  believing  that  your  time  of 
usefulness  was  ended,  and  that  our  situation  de- 
manded your  removal." 

"You  pleaded  eloquently  and  mercifully.  Be- 
lieve me  I  did  not  miss  the  spirit  of  your  appeal. 
I  bear  you  no  grudge,  knowing  that  more  went  to 
my  fall  than  you  could  guess." 

"Let  all  that  be  forgotten,"  replied  the  Patriarch. 
"You  are  again  at  Court  by  Eudocia's  goodwill; 
and  think  not  I  regret  the  fact.  The  past  is  past, 
and  we  are  to  understand  that  you  return  as  friend, 
not  counsellor.  But  can  one  steeped  in  diplomacy 
and  used  to  command,  stand  by  indifferent  at  such 
times  as  these?  You  know  our  purpose,  yet  not 
the  Caesar,  nor  the  Senate,  nor  Psellus  can  win 
from  you  either  commendation  or  censure.  There- 
fore I  entreat  of  you  to  speak  with  me  plainly.  Can 
you  honestly  declare  that  the  thing  we  presently 
shall  do  is  not  directed  to  the  welfare,  nay,  the 
salvation  of  the  Empire?  We  fear  you  not,  Mce- 
phorus,  for  no  human  power  can  stay  the  stroke 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  215 

now  to  fall.    But  must  we  think  that  your  judgment 
disapproves  our  plan?" 

"To  set  an  Emperor  upon  the  Throne?" 

"Even  so.  This  revolution  has  Heaven's  sanc- 
tion ;  indeed  I  affirm  that  it  is  inspired  of  Heaven. 
But  we  are  reasonable  men  and  invite  you,  while 
yet  there  is  time,  to  walk  our  way,  that  your  own 
way,  after  these  events,  shall  remain  open  to  you." 

Nicephorus  did  not  answer  immediately,  and 
when  he  did,  ignored  the  threat. 

"In  the  vanished  past,  Xiphilin,  I  often  wished 
that  you  and  I  might  work  as  one,"  he  said.  "I 
recognised  your  surpassing  abilities  as  a  youth,  and 
when  you  chose  the  Church,  and  in  swift  time 
reached  supremacy,  I  believed  that  with  you  at  the 
helm  of  the  people's  spirit,  we  statesmen  might 
work  the  needed  miracle.  But  now  I  do  not  trust 
you." 

"Wherefore  should  you  refuse  to  trust?"  asked 
the  Patriarch.  "I  grant  that  I  was  glad  to  see  your 
downfall,  for  reasons  deeper  than  politics.  It  was 
natural,  and  since  you  speak  plainly,  I  will  do  the 
like.  I  have  too  often  perceived  you  exercise  a 
malign  influence  against  the  Church,  and  when  you 
say  that  we  might  have  worked  together,  it  is  for 
me  to  distrust,  not  you.    You  never  strengthened 


216  EUDOCIA 

my  hands,  but  would  have  weakened  them  if  you 
could." 

"We  have  both  erred  by  temperament  and  dis- 
position," answered  the  elder.  "I  take  your  blame ; 
but  the  future  is  now  our  concern,  and  wide-eyed, 
all-seeing,  let  us  weigh  its  import  and  its  hope  and 
fear.  I  speak  as  one  withdrawn  from  any  hand  or 
voice  in  affairs.  I  was  resigned  and  reconciled  to 
a  life  of  peace.  My  hair  does  not  yet  hide  the 
tonsure,  to  which  without  a  murmur  I  submitted.  I 
had  indeed  said  farewell  to  statecraft,  and  was 
turning  to  what  better  fits  old  age.  Yea,  believe 
me,  I  should  now  be  reclining  upon  philosophy,  as 
a  sick  man  upon  his  pillows.  So  I  saw  an  autumn 
time  to  grow  mellow  ere  the  plucking.  Thereupon, 
our  Eudocia,  learning  that  her  fate  was  sealed, 
cried  out  for  me,  hoping  doubtless  to  strike  from 
my  old  brain  some  flash  of  aid  against  her  depo- 
sition. But  things  will  happen  as  they  must,  Patri- 
arch. The  warp  and  woof  are  blending  swiftly, 
inexorably,  to  show  what  pattern  her  future  takes 
— while  you  direct  the  weavers." 

"Not  I,  Mcephorus.  We  are  at  best  blind 
artificers.  It  is  the  Master  Weaver  of  all  looms 
who  sets  the  pattern." 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  217 

Nicephorus  pointed  to  Eudocia's  little  silver 
throne  by  which  they  now  stood. 

"Rest  you  here  awhile  and  I  will  make  confession 
to  your  Beatitude,"  he  said.  "Not  on  my  knees-- 
alas !  they  are  too  old  to  bend  easily,  but  from  my 
heart.,, 

"It  is  the  throne  of  the  Empress." 

"An  augury !  Sit,  man !  This  senseless  toy  can- 
not proclaim  you  impious.  Be  seated,  and  I  will 
recline  upon  the  cushions." 

Xiphilin,  weary  of  standing,  obeyed,  but  his 
black  eyes  searched  the  trees. 

"Fll  strike  to  the  root  and  voice  my  inner  dreams, 
knowing  the  secret  safe  with  you,"  continued 
Nicephorus.  "It  is  agreed  that  the  sceptre  of  the 
East  has  grown  too  heavy  for  any  woman's  hand." 

"If  you  grant  so  much,  what  divides  us?" 

"Humanity,"  answered  the  statesman.  "Plain 
humanity  first,  diplomacy  afterwards.  I  love  our 
gracious  Monarch.  She  is  a  woman  of  noble  nature 
— sunk  just  now  from  her  lofty  ideals  by  two 
tormentors — love  and  despair.  But  I  am  not  blind. 
Her  last  hope  is  centred  in  the  people's  will.  'Let 
me  be  at  the  mercy  of  my  people' — thus  she  prays." 

"A  woman's  wish,"  answered  Xiphilin.    "The 


218  EUDOCIA 

people  have  no  mercy.  None  will  show  one  spark 
of  ruth  when  the  appointed  hour  strikes.  She  is 
angering  her  people  at  this  moment.  Why  does 
Romanus  Diogenes  still  lie  chained  by  Marmora? 
For  female  spite  and  folly.  His  troops  debauch  the 
capital,  and  if  we  had  delayed  much  longer,  it  is 
not  we  but  the  Varangians  and  Romanus  who  had 
wrecked  her  throne.  I  speak  assuming  that  he  still 
lives." 

"Supposing  the  general  free,  wherein  would  lie 
your  hopes?"  asked  Nicephorus.  "Can  it  be  that 
they  chime  with  my  own?" 

"I  think  thus,"  replied  the  Patriarch.  "Our 
watchwords  should  be  'policy'  and  'oppression/ 
At  the  centre  power  absolute — a  power  rich  in  all 
resources,  prompt  in  all  actions;  a  brain  whose 
thoughts,  echoed  by  a  thousand  willing  ministers, 
can  flash  to  the  confines  of  empire  quicklier  than 
the  thunderbolt;  a  mouth  whose  slightest  whisper 
awakes  the  sleeping  sword  or  puts  it  up  again.  Our 
ramparts  should  be  built,  not  of  dead  earth  and 
stone,  Mcephorus,  but  palpitating  flesh  and  blood 
fired  by  a  nation's  spirit.  Power  should  be  con- 
served jealously,  and  handed  only  from  the  strong 
to  the  strong.  Power  in  the  hands  of  the  weak 
means  death  to  all.     It  is  summed  in  that  word, 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  219 

power  to  protect  and  punish,  power  to  threaten  and 
breed  fear,  power  welling  from  the  nation's  heart 
to  her  boundaries — power — ever  more  power  I 
crave !" 

"You  do  yourself  a  wrong  to  say  you  are  no 
statesman,"  answered  Nicephorus.  "Had  politics 
tempted  your  genius,  yours  the  mouth  and  brain 
ere  this  that  held  the  saving  word,  the  pregnant 
thought,  the  whirlwind  on  its  leash.  The  army, 
then,  you  hold  our  foremost  problem." 

"Power,  more  power — bred  out  of  pure  patri- 
otism first,  and  then  pure  intellect  to  govern  and 
apply  it." 

"We  have  the  intellect,  but  patriotism  is  a  rare 
flower — so  many  weeds  masquerade  in  her  name." 

"No  great  nation  wholly  lacks  it,"  argued 
Xiphilin.  "The  germ  abides  in  Greece,  and  if  the 
mighty  ones  but  light  their  beacons  on  our  moun- 
tain tops,  the  lesser  flames  will  flash  their  answer 
till  all  the  nation's  in  a  blaze.  Let  it  be  our  task 
to  kindle  such  a  flame;  and  that  we  may  do  so,  a 
man  is  needed  on  the  Throne." 

"Weighty  and  worthy  words,"  declared  Nice- 
phorus. "I  bow  to  them.  A  great  man  we  need, 
to  light  the  Empire's  heart  and  to  teach  the  people 
what  a  woman  cannot  teach  them.    To-day  we  buy 


220  EUDOCIA 

our  soldiers  in  open  market,  as  cooks  their  kids 
and  porkers,  chaffering  to  get  them  cheaply.  We 
give  our  gold  for  the  living  carcases  of  Sclav  and 
renegade  Turk,  Bulgar  and  Englishman,  to  fight 
for  our  skins.  Yet  how  can  these  love  alien  soil,  or 
erect  that  barrier  of  a  nation's  spirit  sprung  un- 
conquerable from  its  own  mother's  sons?  Hired 
spears  never  fight  to  a  finish — unless,  indeed,  one 
they  love  leads  them." 

"Even  so,"  grunted  Xiphilin.  "A  queen  cannot 
take  the  field ;  John  Ducas  can." 

"John  Ducas!  Poor  Caesar!  Would  you  send 
him  to  the  wars  fretting  his  fat  in  fear  and  shiver- 
ing under  mountain  tents  hardened  by  frost?  He 
was  not  born  to  make  the  soldiers  love  him.  Think 
again,  Patriarch.  My  heart!  How  oft  I  mourn 
that  it  is  forbidden  our  Empress  should  wed  a 
hero." 

"I  do  not  crave  another  hero  in  the  purple," 
replied  Xiphilin.  "Byzantium  has  seen  enough  of 
heroes;  they  put  too  heavy  a  strain  on  the  State. 
Let  the  heroes  strut  the  field  and  be  as  terrible 
there  as  you  will.  In  time  of  peace  there  is  no 
greater  or  more  dangerous  nuisance  than  your  hero. 
Our  ultimate  ideals  are  never  those  of  fighting  men, 
and  the  land  that  lets  the  blade  turn  against  the 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYAKDS  221 

wit  that  forged  it,  fares  ill.  As  for  her — Eudocia — 
she  has  sworn  away  any  thought  of  a  second  spouse. 
If  fifty  right  heroes  came  in  chariots  of  thunder 
from  the  sky,  she  never  weds  again — not  while  God 
reigns  in  heaven  and  I  stand  for  Him  on  earth." 

"I  wish  most  heartily  you  did  so  stand,"  retorted 
Nicephorus. 

"And  do  I  not?" 

"No,  Patriarch.  I'm  glad  you  put  the  question, 
however.  It  will  help  us  forward.  You  and  I  have 
never  fairly  grasped  each  other's  problems  nor  have 
we  measured  each  other's  strength.  I  often  con- 
sidered your  self-denials  and  abnegations,  but  give 
you  large  credit  I  could  not,  because  I  saw  that 
these  trials  were  forced  upon  you  and  your  gigantic 
ambitions  were  fettered.  So  the  lesser  thing 
commands  what  your  heart  tells  you  is  the  greater, 
and  you  accept  the  fact  that  in  the  East  our  politics 
come  first,  our  religion  second.  Even  thus  we 
stand,  and  you  are  a  servant,  but  not  to  God  only. 
Soon  now  you  must  bend  under  the  will  of  the 
translated  Caesar  and  the  mercy  of  Michael  Psellus. 
Holy  Church  at  the  beck  of  the  historian !  That  is 
why  I  shake  my  head  and  deny  you  the  power  that 
you  pretend." 

"  'Pretend,'  Nicephorus?" 


222  EUDOCIA 

"Pretend  you  must,  Patriarch.  Reality  is  denied 
you,  for  only  the  shadow  of  power  is  yours.  Your 
loftiest  claims  fall  far  short  of  real  power,  and  who 
knows  it  better  than  yourself?  A  ghost  and  faint 
simulacrum  your  rule  appears  when  we  contrast  it 
with  any  potent  Prince  of  the  Church.  The 
Cardinals  in  Rome  are  greater  men  than  you.  You 
stand  unto  their  substance  as  a  shadow  beside  the 
ponderable  thing  that  flings  it.  The  Church  of 
Rome  is  a  scourge  of  many  thongs;  ours — what? 
A  slave,  to  feel  the  lash,  not  wield  the  lash." 

"To  my  everlasting  shame  I  grant  you  speak  the 
truth,"  admitted  the  Primate,  with  troubled  fore- 
head and  fierce  eyes. 

"The  shame  does  not  lie  with  you — unless,  in- 
deed, you  are  content,"  answered  Nicephorus. 

"  'Content  P  lam  not  made  of  stuff  that  can  be 
moulded  to  content." 

"No,  you  are  not.  Life,  doubtless,  disturbs  you 
and  you  mourn  the  vision  of  what  should  be,  op- 
posed to  what  is.  But  shall  your  pitiful  pretence 
and  mummery  flourish  to  the  end  of  time  because 
the  Constitution  of  this  realm  has  emasculated  our 
Church?" 

In  Xiphilin's  soul  awoke  suspicion  of  this 
tempting  tongue. 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  223 

"Not  so  you  talked  upon  your  trial,"  he  said. 

"Not  so  I  thought  upon  my  trial,"  answered  the 
other.  "Many  and  magical  things  have  happened 
since  my  trial — things  that  you  might  have  marked 
as  swiftly  as  I,  yet  failed  to  do  so.  I  will  come  to 
them.  Let  us  pursue  first  this  tremendous  theme. 
I  am  confessing,  remember,  and  I  ask  myself,  in 
the  light  of  a  great  and  immediate  possibility,  what 
irrevocable  fate  still  holds  our  Church  in  its  an- 
cient bonds,  to  limp,  a  prisoner,  at  the  chariot 
wheels  of  temporal  power?  Why,  for  an  example, 
should  the  Roman  See  outshine  ours  of  the  East 
as  a  risen  moon  beggars  the  stars?  Tell  me  what 
virtue  lies  in  popes,  that  Christian  monarchs 
tumble  over  each  other  to  kiss  their  omnipotent 
toes?  I  only  ask  to  learn.  Why  is  the  West  so 
quick  to  grant  the  Almighty's  first  minister  his 
pride  of  place  and  amplitude  of  power,  while  the 
Orient  denies  it  to  him,  and  cynically  curbs  his 
sacred  claims?  Is  it  right,  or  wrong?  Is  it  the 
highest  wisdom,  or  a  gross  impiety?  Might  not 
some  devout  souls  say  that  we  come  near  to  flouting 
Heaven's  self  when  we  flout  Heaven's  vicegerent? 
Indeed  I  doubt  not  there  are  men  we  know  would 
declare  that  it  is  for  this  offence  we  suffer  the  pangs 
of  failure,  tribulation  and  defeat  on  many  fields. 


224  EUDOCIA 

Thus  might  they  say  God  wills  to  open  our  blinded 
eyes,  by  humbling  our  might  again  and  again  be- 
fore the  infidel." 

"Believe,  I  have  bitterly  felt  all  that  you  speak," 
answered  the  Patriarch.  "I  have  smarted  under 
it,  writhed  under  it  and  taken  my  tortures  with 
many  a  groan  and  prayer  before  the  Everlasting. 
The  Pope  and  I  are  equal  touching  the  Light  we 
profess  to  hold  aloft;  but  the  difference  between 
us  lies  in  this :  he  of  the  triple  crown  is  a  traitor  to 
God,  and  by  blackest  treachery  arrogates  temporal 
power,  cleaving  to  it  with  devilish  cunning,  and  so 
prostituting  the  message  of  the  Most  High.  In  the 
spirit  of  the  Devil  he  utters  his  threats  and 
promises.  He  reigns  by  terror  over  friends  and 
foes  alike;  his  statecraft  extends  over  the  souls  of 
men,  and  out  of  their  superstitious  dread  of  the 
hereafter,  they  grovel  in  the  present.  His  power 
rises  out  of  man's  ignorance,  not  God's  wisdom,  and 
the  West  was  ever  fertile  soil  to  spawn  his  proud 
and  vast  authority.  But  the  East  still  feels  a  ques- 
tioning spirit — a  spirit  bred  by  pagan  men  before 
the  dawn  of  Christ.  What  they  wrote  and  taught 
still  bears  doubtful  fruit  of  reason,  and  it  is 
through  the  golden  and  temperate  mean,  between 
reason  and   faith,   that   I   would  lead  mankind, 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  225 

Nicephorus.  If  I  could  shout  and  bellow  half  as 
loud  as  impious  Rome,  I  should  be  heard  as  far; 
but  I  am  a  Christian,  in  truth  as  well  as  name ;  the 
Pope  is  not.  The  outside  of  his  cup  may  be  bright ; 
the  inside  is  foul.  Yet  who  shall  deny  the  better 
part  is  mine:  to  yield  the  earthly  power  for 
spiritual?" 

But  the  elder  shook  his  head. 

"That  will  not  do,"  he  answered.  "You  make 
a  virtue  out  of  your  impotence,  neither  deceiving 
me  nor  satisfying  Xiphilin.  Your  path  upward, 
into  the  splendour  of  historic  fame,  would  run  by 
wider  channels  if  you  had  the  strength  to  make  it. 
These  surely  are  times  when  heavenly  claims  cry 
for  earthly  genius  to  keep  them  in  the  forefront  of 
our  affairs,  lest  they  recede  and  are  for  ever  lost. 
These  are  times  when  Christ's  humility — always 
beautiful — may  prove  perilous  to  His  Church.  He 
brought  a  sword,  knowing  the  need  thereof.  Yet 
you  suffer  it  to  lie  rusting  in  the  scabbard.  Does 
not  your  own  office  show  that  I  speak  truth?  At  a 
nod — an  Emperor's  nod — a  monk  has  often  passed 
from  the  cell  to  St.  Sophia's  throne;  and  thence 
again — to  nothing.  But  our  patriarchs  should  be 
sacred  once  they  reach  supremacy.  The  fault  is 
their  own,  however,  since  they  deem  the  sword 


226  EUDOCIA 

becomes  them  less  fittingly  than  a  shirt  of  hair. 
Remember,  Xiphilin,  that  your  Maker  willed  you 
to  be  a  patrician  first,  a  priest  afterwards;  and 
God  does  nothing  without  purpose." 

The  Patriarch  was  perturbed.  He  drummed 
upon  the  arm  of  the  little  throne  and  stared  darkly 
at  his  companion. 

"Are  you  an  angel  to  counsel,  or  a  devil  to 
tempt?"  he  asked. 

"Neither.  An  old  man  who  only  yearns  to  see 
this  State  assured  ere  he  leaves  it  for  the  peace  of 
his  grave — the  State  stronger  and  the  throne 
secure." 

"A  woman  reigns,"  said  Xiphilin,  "and  at  her 
wilful  whim  stands  the  plenipotentiary  of  the 
Almighty." 

"A  thorn  to  prick  any  high  priest,"  admitted 
Nicephorus.  "But  are  you  not  a  Christian  first 
and  a  subject  afterwards?  Now  is  your  hour,  your 
opportunity !  Time  dawdles  for  you !  Be  another 
Photius,  man,  and  set  the  Pope  and  all  his  works 
under  your  heel !" 

"Then  must  the  Eastern  Crown  be  under  my 
heel  also,"  answered  Xiphilin,  looking  upon  the 
fires  of  the  sunset  sky. 

"That,  too,  and  why  not?    Our  Christian  Asia, 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  227 

our  Christian  Africa,  and  all  the  Islands  go  peace- 
fully enough  at  your  command,  then  why  not  Con- 
stantinople?" 

"You  ask  mighty  but  idle  questions.  Only  time 
to  come  can  see  them  answered,"  replied  the  other 
with  a  sigh. 

"Answer  them  yourself.  Make  Time  your  accom- 
plice, not  your  enemy,  Patriarch.  Use  this  ripe  and 
teeming  hour,  for  never  yet  was  one  strong  hand 
in  reach  of  such  fruit  ready  to  fall." 

"You  dream,  Nicephorus.  These  blessings  can- 
not come  for  this  generation.  It  is  the  soldier's 
hour,  not  ours.  While  on  every  frontier  there 
howls  a  different  foe,  the  Church  can  only  watch 
and  pray." 

"And  would  our  armies  not  fight  for  Holy 
Church  as  they  have  never  fought  before?  I  say : 
1 Secure  the  temporal  power,  and  all  the  weightier 
things  will  be  added  to  you.'  Ascend  the  Throne, 
Xiphilin!  Reign  by  proxy,  and  from  that  exalted 
place  your  vision  will  indeed  scan  reality;  your 
hand  pour  down  spiritual  food  upon  the  realm,  as 
manna  from  the  clouds.  You  seize  the  less  for  the 
sake  of  the  greater,  answering  first  the  cry  of  the 
Nation's  stricken  body  that  you  may  anon  heal 
her  soul." 


228  EUDOCIA 

Xiphilin  breathed  deep  and  his  nostrils  opened 
widely  as  he  respired ;  but  his  forehead  was  moody ; 
his  eyes  shifted  to  right  and  left,  like  those  of  a 
nervous  horse. 

"What  has  inspired  your  thoughts  to  this 
stupendous  vision?"  he  asked.  "The  desire  of  my 
downfall,  perchance?  You  would  egg  me  on  to 
work  time's  revenges  for  you?  I  cannot  forget  that 
you  ever  scoffed  at  the  verities,  Nicephorus." 

"Not  I,"  answered  the  other.  "You  wrong  me 
there;  and  you  wrong  me  to  suppose  that  I  dream 
of  revenge.  Look  back  and  see  when  I  have  sought 
revenge  on  any  man.  Religion  undefiled  won  no 
flout  or  scorn  from  me;  but  to  watch  the  soul 
choked  out  of  righteousness  with  idle  pomp " 

"Religion  appreciates  the  value  of  the  eye,  the 
ear,  the  nose.  Men  may  be  drawn  by  these  to  holi- 
ness, for  all  have  eyes,  ears,  noses;  few  possess 
understanding." 

"You  ask  whence  come  these  deep  and  pregnant 
thoughts,  Patriarch.  Believe  me,  loyalty,  not 
treason,  breeds  them.    Our  Eudocia  must  wed." 

He  waited  for  the  explosion,  and  it  came. 

"That  she  shall  never  do.  Her  eternal  widow- 
hood is  as  sure  as  that  the  sun  is  setting.  The 
world  united  does  not  shake  my  determination.    It 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  229 

is  for  this  reason  that  the  Throne  passes  to  Caesar, 
since  our  cry  is  for  an  Emperor." 

"That's  her  cry,  too." 

"Then  I  pray  wisdom  is  whispering  her  to  ab- 
dicate, that  our  course  may  be  the  peacefuller." 

"Wisdom,"  said  Nicephorus,  "has  whispered  her 
to  share  the  Throne,  not  leave  it.  Nature  knows  no 
obligations,  recognises  no  oath.  Providence  has 
willed  that  the  Empress  loves." 

"Do  not  take  the  name  of  Providence  in  vain,  old 
man.  It  is  the  Devil,  not  Providence,  who  has 
breathed  this  appalling  impiety  into  her  wanton 
heart." 

"I  feared  that  you  would  think  so;  yet  I  much 
mourn  your  attitude.  It  is  a  disaster  for  the 
Church,  and  therefore  a  universal  tragedy." 

"The  Church  is  not  involved  save  to  do  right," 
answered  Xiphilin,  but  the  counsellor  explained 
himself. 

"Directly,  vitally,  fatally  involved.  So  deeply 
that,  in  this  emotion  of  the  Monarch,  I  repeat  the 
hand  of  Providence  alone  is  lifted — both  for  Church 
and  State." 

Again  Xiphilin  deeply  doubted ;  again  he  became 
personal. 

"You  are  not  used  to  talk  so  dangerously,  or 


230  EUDOCIA 

show  your  spirit  naked.  Can  accident  and  change 
and  chance  and  unexpected  things  unveil  you 
thus?" 

"A  natural  wonder.  Yet  it  is  so,  Xiphilin.  For 
consider  the  significance  of  my  first  discovery  on 
return  to  Court.  I  came  and  found  the  Empress 
had  lifted  the  Protostrator  to  her  right  hand,  had 
wakened  to  see  him  in  a  roseal  light  that,  between 
man  and  woman,  means  one  thing  alone." 

"Bardas!"  cried  Xiphilin.  "That  gilded  piece 
of  emptiness!" 

"Empty  vessels  can  be  filled ;  he  is  your  brother ; 
and  though  he  bears  himself  proudly,  it  is  first 
because  he  is  your  brother  that  he  does  so.  He 
shows  at  least  a  very  seemly  reverence  for  you,  and 
is  under  your  authority  more  than  your  little 
finger.  In  truth  you  are  your  brother's  keeper,  for 
good  or  ill ;  and  did  he  reign,  then  you  and  only  you 
are  monarch  of  the  East — to  control  Church,  State, 
all.  Did  fate  but  set  you  on  that  Olympian  perch, 
my  friend,  I  think  your  thunder  would  reach  as  far, 
your  lightning  strike  as  sharp,  as  any  pope's.  We 
old  men  dream  dreams  and  see  visions.  I — in  your 
ear  as  penitent — confess  that  I  have  dreamed  how 
an  oath,  made  to  a  dying  man,  might  well  be  an- 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  231 

nulled — to  no  base  purpose,  but  for  the  salvation 
of  a  distraught  kingdom.  To  me,  in  this  waking 
dream,  it  seemed  incredibly  strange  that  such  a 
trifle  should  thrust  between  a  nation's  hope  and 
despair.  My  vision  showed  how  easily  our  helm 
might  be  safe  in  a  steadfast  hand,  our  sails  sure  set 
at  last  before  the  steady  breath  of  Heaven's  will; 
while  forward,  to  her  appointed  destiny,  our  ship 
stood  out  upon  the  obsequious  deep.  But  you  must 
pardon  me  these  images,  for,  as  you  teach  me,  I  am 
too  backward  in  matters  of  the  spirit." 

Xiphilin's  black  eyes  stared  before  him,  probing 
the  future.  His  brain  worked;  for  a  moment 
suspicion  grew  dull. 

"Answer  this,"  he  said.  "Does  Diogenes  still 
live?" 

"I  have  her  word  he  does.  She  knows  the  pas- 
sionate adoration  of  the  armies  for  his  name." 

"Speak  on  then,  Mcephorus.  Bare  the  depth  of 
your  amazing  thought.    It  will  go  no  farther." 

"Mayhap  I  have  spoken  too  much  already,  Patri- 
arch. But  within  your  pontifical  heart  this  secret 
is  safe  enough.  I  have  confessed;  it  is  for  you 
to  absolve  and  forget." 

"You  are  a  statesman,"  answered  Xiphilin,  "and 


232  EUDOCIA 

your  prescience  in  policy  needs  no  condemnation 
or  censure  from  me,  since  the  thought  behind  is 
pure  and  the  devotion  to  State  transparent." 

"You  speak  the  truth  and  judge  me  fairly,"  an- 
swered the  elder.  "It  is  not  only  for  you  that  I 
have  laid  my  ambition  bare.  Grant  at  least, 
whether  you  will  to  wield  it  or  no,  that  this  weapon 
appears  one  of  heavenly  forging,  well  tempered  for 
such  a  tremendous  test." 

"What  weapon?"  asked  Xiphilin. 

"Why,  her  heart — the  heart  of  Eudocia,  now 
afire  under  the  unanswerable,  unreasoning  goad  of 
love.  There  is  one  soul  on  all  the  earth  she  might 
espouse,  to  your  enormous  gain,  Patriarch,  as 
Father  of  the  Church.  And  were  that  granted,  as 
swiftly  as  her  love  and  our  policy  might  accomplish 
it.  .  .  .  But  I  am  weary ;  I  talk  in  vain.  You  will 
not  make  the  answer  that  my  heart  had  hoped  to 
hear  from  yours;  so  mine  grows  cold." 

The  Patriarch  did  not  reply  immediately :  he  was 
pursuing  his  own  reflections. 

"What  trashy  baits  will  take  them!"  he  said  at 
length,  looking  up  at  Mcephorus,  who  had  risen, 
and  now  stood  beside  him.  "Nevertheless  there  is 
inconsistency  in  this  woman.  I  cannot  think  that 
she  would  lose  her  old,  unconcealed  contempt  of 
Bardas  at  a  breath." 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  233 

"Warn  him;  warn  him  of  his  peril.  Bid  him 
begone  swiftly.  A  whisper  from  you  will  despatch 
him.  At  a  wink  he'll  fly  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
Only  passion  has  tempted  him  thus  far.  Yet  I 
blame  him  not,  for  who  under  such  direct  provoca- 
tion could  have  held  in?" 

"Strange  is  the  sound  of  the  still,  small  voice  in 
a  human  ear,"  mused  Xiphilin.  "So  doubtfully 
indeed  sometimes  it  whispers,  that  even  those  best 
in  tune  to  receive  the  message  may  err." 

"But  not  always  so,"  answered  the  other. 
"None  can  speak  so  clear  as  conscience  when  clear- 
ness is  demanded.  Now  my  cry  is  for  an  expert  of 
the  oracles  to  tell  this  dream  of  mine  and  spell  its 
meaning.  And  who  better  than  you  should  read 
it?" 

"You  hold  that  she  actually  loves  him?"  asked 
Xiphilin. 

"Watch  them  together  and  judge.  That  will  be 
easy." 

"It  is  not  in  her  character  so  to  do,"  declared  the 
Patriarch.  "Never  have  her  taste  and  inclination 
sought  the  things  that  Bardas  lives  for." 

"Such  was  my  opinion  also.  And  still  I  think 
it,"  answered  Nicephorus.  "They  differ  pro- 
foundly ;  and  that  is  massive  evidence  in  itself,  for 
Love  takes  joy  to  play  these  magic  sleights  and 


234  EUDOCIA 

involve  by  his  indecent  wit  right  opposite  men  and 
women  who,  but  for  his  mad  games,  would  be  the 
first  to  feel  and  see  their  own  deep  disparity.  Love 
will  link  such  together,  while  fools  laugh  and  wise 
men  take  shame." 

"How  did  he  dare  to  fly  so  high,  think  you?" 

"Would  he  have  dared  without  some  huge  in- 
spiration to  exalt  his  spirit  and  make  him  fearless? 
And  the  Empress — would  she  suddenly  view  him  in 
this  new  light  did  no  fire  drip  from  love's  torch  into 
her  soul?  Your  brother  Bardas  is  not  the  first  to 
be  an  Emperor,  who  loved  his  horse  and  hound. 
When  I  was  caged  by  Marmora  I  played  at  chess 
with  him  and  often  thought  how  destiny  has  willed 
to  crown  a  pawn,  yet  little  guessed  that  I  should 
live  to  see  the  thing  happen.  And  can  we  now  deny 
that  the  reason  for  this  wonder  rests  within  the 
sleepless  mind  of  an  over- ruling  Providence?  You 
are  still  the  vane  to  mark  which  way  the  wind  of 
Heaven  is  blowing  on  this  people.  Then  mark  it 
now  for  me." 

Xiphilin,  thrown  into  agitation,  took  some  steps 
and  walked  irresolutely  up  and  down,  while  Ni- 
cephorus  stood  still  and  watched  him.  Then  the 
priest  spoke  again: 

"What  would  be  the  issue  if  such  a  revolution 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  235 

burst  upon  this  slumbering  State?  And  what  is 
your  personal  hope  out  of  this,  did  it,  indeed,  hap- 
pen? You  must  have  considered  the  situation  as 
it  touched  yourself." 

"I  have  not  looked  as  far  as  that.  Had  I  done 
so,  I  had  probably  been  silent,  for  fear.  I  was  only 
desirous  to  reveal  what  seemed  an  evangel  of  great 
worth,  and  bring  it  to  you  in  all  its  splendour, 
danger  and  significance,  that  your  impartial  mind 
might  resolve  whether  it  comes  from  Evil  or 
Good?" 

Xiphilin  weighed  these  words;  then  he  began  to 
nibble  the  bait  with  infinite  circumspection.  He 
sat  again  and  expounded  the  situation  with  a  soph- 
istry that  was  his  second  nature  in  matters  of  the 
soul. 

Slowly  and  surely  he  began  to  deceive — not  his 
listener,  but  himself. 

"The  doubt  lies  with  the  dead,"  declared  he,  his 
brows  bent  in  a  double  task:  to  display  the  case 
luminously  and  to  bend  the  argument  in  the  direc- 
tion of  his  gathering  conviction.  "If  Constantine 
was  wholly  conscious  when  he  exacted  Eudocia's 
oath,  then  not  I,  nor  angels,  nor  archangels  could 
rescind  so  irrevocable  a  bond.  But  if  we  were  in  a 
position  to  say  that   the  Emperor  had   already 


236  EUDOCIA 

turned  into  the  vestibule  of  death,  that  his  hold 
on  consciousness  was  weakened  before  Eudocia 
swore " 

"Why,  then,  indeed,  no  doubt  could  exist," 
replied  Mcephorus.  "The  point  must  ever  remain 
obscure  to  mortal  mind.  But  we  cannot  in  honesty 
ignore  the  doubt.  The  doubt  itself  is  the  point ;  for 
grant  the  uncertainty  of  Constantine's  condition  at 
the  fatal  moment,  then  the  case  is  largely  altered, 
and  it  becomes  a  question  for  you  and  you  only, 
whether  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  may  not  be  con- 
ceded. Your  problem  is  not  complex  and  reduces 
itself  to  this:  whether — not  for  her  own  sake,  but 
for  the  mightier  issues  now  before  you — to  the 
Empress  shall  be  given  the  benefit  of  doubt." 

Xiphilin  nodded,  but  scarcely  heard.  He  was 
pursuing  his  natural  way  through  the  labyrinth. 

"If  often  happens  that  a  man  will  reveal  a  mas- 
ter passion  at  some  moment  great  with  his  own 
destiny,"  he  said. 

Mcephorus  regarded  him ;  but  the  old  man's  face 
revealed  no  tremor,  nor  was  there  a  breath  of  irony 
in  his  voice  as  he  answered : 

"Most  true,  Patriarch ;  I  have  seen  it  with  these 
eyes !" 

"The  late  Emperor's  was  jealousy,"  continued 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  237 

Xiphilin.  "Of  that  there  can  be  no  question.  A 
young  wife  will  often  waken  it  in  an  old  husband, 
though  she  may  be  innocent.  Many  a  time  I 
warned  our  Constantine  against  this  futile  emo- 
tion. But  since  that  was  so,  we  may  go  a  careful 
step  farther  and  grant  that,  even  were  he  in  pos- 
session of  his  full  faculties,  the  motive  that  in- 
spired the  oath  he  put  upon  Eudocia  came  not 
from  Heaven.  You  follow  me?  Jealousy — strong- 
est in  his  weakest  hour — wholly  dominated  Con- 
stan tine's  sinking  mind;  and  thus,  whether  fully 
conscious  or  no,  he  erred.  I  will  not  actually 
affirm  that  he  did  wrong,  Nicephorus.  He  may 
mentally  have  passed  the  point  at  which  wrong- 
doing can  be  imputed  to  him ;  but  err  the  late  king 
did  and,  either  way,  it  leaves  the  Church  free 
enough." 

"A  potent  argument,"  admitted  the  other. 

"Let  us  now  consider  what  follows,"  continued 
the  priest.  "Eudocia's  young ;  she  might  in  course 
of  nature  bear  a  son  and  blot  the  dynasty  of  Ducas 
out!" 

The  veteran  knew  that  his  battle  was  won.  There 
remained  only  to  gather  the  trophies.  He  relaxed 
and  began  to  paint  with  a  coarse  brush. 

"Well  may  you  ask  what  follows!     Your  own 


238  EUDOCIA 

blood  flows  into  the  purple  and  you  found  a  dynasty 
yourself!  It  staggers  an  old  brain  to  think  that 
such  deeds  lie  within  the  stroke  of  one  man's  hand. 
And  such  a  man." 

"I  must  pursue  this  tremendous  subject  on  my 
knees,"  answered  the  younger.  He  was  wiping  his 
brow  whereon  his  emotion  beaded.  His  breath  had 
quickened  —  he  almost  panted.  Mcephorus  per- 
ceived in  him  phenomena  akin  to  those  exhibited 
by  Bardas  in  prison. 

Xiphilin  continued : 

"I'll  hide  myself  in  some  lonely  House  of  God. 
I  will  withdraw  and  listen  whether  the  Voice 
that  guides  my  least  and  greatest  thought  speaks 
clearly." 

But  delay  did  not  commend  itself  to  the 
statesman. 

"Is  not  your  soul  already  upon  its  knees?"  he 
enquired  wearily.  For  he  was  skilled  to  keep 
triumph  out  of  his  face  and  speech  as  easily  as 
failure.  "Be  assured,  Patriarch,  that  the  still, 
small  voice  you  tell  me  guides  your  every  deed, 
now  speaks  loud  enough  and  assures  you  that  the 
noblest  form  of  prayer  is  action.  When  the  trum- 
pet sounds  from  the  clouds,  our  spirits  leap  to 
answer,  for  that  celestial  summons  may  not  come 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  239 

twice.  Heaven  bids  to  her  banquets  when  they  are 
ready  and  offers  fruit  ripe  for  instant  plucking. 
Things  happen  at  God's  good  time,  or  never.  We 
must  gird  our  armour  on  with  despatch,  for  sur- 
prise is  often  the  secret  of  success." 

Xiphilin  nodded  acquiescence. 

"The  army  first,"  he  said.     "If  Psellus  and  the 

Caesar  suddenly  find   me  cold But  neither 

matters  much  before  this  avalanche.  The  Empress 
alone — she  and  the  future  Emperor." 

"And  you." 

"If  she  were  publicly  absolved  of  her  oath,  Ni- 
cephorus,  and  bidden,  on  pain  of  divine  displeasure, 
to  forego  her  hatred  against  Romanus  Diogenes — 
then  we  are  trebly  armed  and  as  safe  as  wit  of  man 
and  will  of  God  can  make  us." 

"And  this  I  promise,"  added  the  other,  "that 
when  the  truth  is  out,  Romanus  and  his  armies  will 
be  firm  for  the  Throne.  Opposition  is  of  no  account 
while  you  hold  the  powers  of  Heaven  and  earth  in 
your  two  hands." 

"The  Senate ?" 

"When  you  have  sanctified  Eudocia's  love,  the 
rest  must  happen  as  the  cataract  falls  over  the 
precipice.    We  know  the  Senate." 

Xiphilin  rose  to  his  feet. 


240  EUDOCIA 

"My  Master  speaks!"  he  said  in  his  deepest 
tones. 

"So  be  it,"  answered  the  other,  quick  to  answer 
theatricals  with  rhetoric.  "Mark  the  sky,  Patri- 
arch, tinged  with  the  rapture  of  a  sun  in  sight  of 
rest.  Let  this  gracious  light  gild  your  blessed  deed 
and  link  Nature's  hour  of  peace  with  your  most 
glorious  enterprise." 

"She  shall  be  free,  Nicephorus,  before  the  sun 
has  set !" 

"Amen  to  that,"  answered  the  old  man  devoutly. 
Then  he  saluted  the  Patriarch. 

"Heroic  priest!  I  have  known  some — few  they 
were — who,  by  rare  texture  of  their  souls,  flashed 
meteor-like  through  life,  to  influence  the  story  of 
mankind.  So  come  the  rare  comets  from  outer 
space,  to  cleave  the  skies  and  vanish,  yet  leave  be- 
hind in  mighty  births,  or  other  portents,  a  message 
from  beyond  our  ken.  Will  that  this  joyous  thing 
be  broken  joyously ;  for  Constantinople  is  quick  to 
take  a  mood  of  hope  or  fear  from  you.  If  you  are 
dark,  men  falter;  if  you  smile,  they  know  all's 
well." 

"Joyous  it  must  be,  since  God  hath  sent  the 
great  news  to  earth,"  declared  Xiphilin.     "Cleave 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYAKDS  241 

to  that,  Mcephorus.  Be  very  sure  I  glean  my 
mandate  from  on  high  and  shall  so  proclaim  it. 
The  thunders  of  thanksgiving  will  drown  the 
danger." 

"Cite  Heaven  only ;  but  I  need  not  counsel  you." 
"I  will  go,"  continued  Xiphilin,  "and  bid  my 
people  to  the  shrine  in  St.  Sophia's.  Then,  with  a 
guard  of  Churchmen,  they  shall  bring  along  the 
reliquary  that  holds  her  oath.  Within  the  hour  all 
is  done." 

He  hastened  where  his  little  company  strolled 
beside  the  vineyard  hedge ;  and  swiftly  despatched 
them  with  a  cipher  message  to  the  cathedral. 

§  5 

Nicephorus  watched  the  Patriarch  depart,  but  no 
elation  marked  his  countenance ;  indeed  melancholy 
harboured  there.  He  felt  conscious  of  his  immense 
accomplishment,  yet  found  slight  savour  in  the 
taste  of  it. 

Walking  slowly  he  stood  by  the  shattered 
Dionysus;  and  then  Eudocia,  who  had  for  the  last 
few  moments  watched  unseen,  slipped  from  the 
undergrowth  and  stood  beside  him. 


242  EUDOCIA 

"Is  it  life  or  death?"  she  asked,  and  Nicephorus 
did  not  reply,  though  implicitly  his  words  answered 
her. 

He  pointed  to  the  statue. 

"The  boyish  god,  Majesty — our  Dionysus  of  the 
destinies,  who  from  Dodona  leapt  into  the  world, 
to  wreak  his  will  upon  the  hearts  of  men  with 
might  and  madness.  His  cantharos  has  fallen  with 
his  hand  to  the  dust,  else  he  might  have  drunk  to 
your  Patriarch  and  the  furies  now  sharpening  their 
talons  for  a  soul.  In  truth  his  maenads  and  cory- 
bants,  streaming  with  blood  and  wine;  his  fauns 
and  nymphs  and  old  grey  satyrs — the  whole  shriek- 
ing, crazy  company — are  but  a  fairy  dance  to  the 
throng  of  Christian  fiends  and  devils  soon  to  haunt 
your  jubilant  arch-priest." 

"What  has  happened  to  him?"  she  asked. 

"Destruction.  The  man's  spirit  shall  scorch 
under  the  white  light  of  truth  anon,  and  her 
ghastly  glass  reflect  for  him  the  secret  of  his  un- 
doing. Now  he  goes  drugged  to  his  awakening  and 
he,  who  worshipped  a  greater  Christ  than  Diony- 
sus, falls  like  Lucifer." 

"Speak  plainly  to  me,  Nicephorus." 

He  turned  and  took  her  hand  tenderly. 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  243 

"A  thorn  has  scratched  your  cheek,  Majesty.  I 
pray  you  now  be  milk  and  honey  to  the  Patriarch. 
The  sun  is  setting  on  one  happy  man  at  least,  and 
may  rise  upon  a  city  full  of  them.  The  light  has 
flashed,  like  a  sword,  into  your  enemy's  heart,  and 
he  is  an  enemy  no  more." 

"Then  you  have  triumphed !"  she  cried. 

"A  tasteless  triumph  too.  His  own  pride  won 
the  bout,  not  I,  and  Xiphilin  was  an  easy  prey  to 
Xiphilin.  Our  lives  are  childish  puzzles  for  the 
gods  to  piece  and  play  with,  Eudocia;  yet  man 
beats  his  Maker  sometimes,  if  one  may  judge  by  the 
wagging  of  the  world.  I  will  seek  Xiphilin's 
friends  now,  who  wait  in  some  anxiety  the  issues 
of  these  interchanges.  Lies  cannot  stand  alone, 
Divine  One.  They  need  the  comfort  and  support 
of  each  other.  When  he  approaches  you  from 
yonder,  salute  him  pensively  and  let  him  know  you 
love.  You  shall  hear  no  harsh  sermon  from  him 
to-day.  Indeed  he  brings  a  mighty  gift  for  his 
Empress." 

"My  liberty !" 

The  Patriarch  had  observed  Eudocia  and  now 
came  forward. 

"I  will  not  spoil  his  pleasure.    And  I  pray  you 


244  EUDOCIA 

to  laud  and  honour  Bardas.  Breathe  his  august 
name  as  though  it  still  were  music,"  said  her 
counsellor. 

"So  it  is,"  she  answered.  "Indeed  it  should  be 
if  I  owe  him  my  fortune.  But  you  are  sad;  you 
speak  with  weariness;  there  is  no  light  in  your 
eyes,  Mcephorus." 

"Not  sad,"  he  said,  "but  hungry  for  simple 
scenes,  without  the  need  of  stratagems  and  wiles, 
to  catch  poor  fellow  men  in  snares  woven  from 
their  own  weakness.  Much  I  envy  the  pure  in 
heart — they  who  stand  before  the  throne  of  Reason, 
intent  upon  her  voice  alone,  at  peace  with  all  man- 
kind. But  I  should  have  thought  of  that  before  I 
turned  statesman." 

He  left  her  then  and,  passing  the  Patriarch, 
spoke  before  he  went  upon  his  way. 

"I  have  not  declared  your  revelation,"  he  said. 
"From  you  alone  must  she  learn  the  boon." 

The  Patriarch  now  stood  by  his  Empress,  who 
sat  again  upon  her  little  silver  throne.  Excitement 
had  faded  from  her  eyes  and  she  simulated  mel- 
ancholy. Indeed  there  was  no  great  need  for 
acting:  Mcephorus  had  cast  her  down. 

"Alone,  Majesty?"  inquired  Xiphilin. 

"Would  that  I  were,"  she  answered.    "A  woman's 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  245 

never  alone  while  her  whole  heart  is  full  of  some- 
one else.  But  what  know  you  of  hearts,  Patri- 
arch?" 

"I  know  that  for  any  heart  a  throne's  a  lonely 
place." 

"Why,  you  are  like  him  in  a  way,"  she  said,  re- 
garding the  priest  ingenuously.  "You  have  his 
nose,  Xiphilin ;  but  there  is  a  gentler  lustre  in  his 
eyes;  his  forehead  is  not  so  proud  as  yours,  and 
he  can  laugh." 

Xiphilin  pretended  a  great  ignorance. 

"Men  of  distinction  like  not  to  be  compared  with 
others,  or  learn  of  fancied  resemblances,"  he 
answered,  "yet,  if  I  bring  any  pleasant  vision  to 
your  memory,  it  is  well.  I  seek  audience,  and  here 
is  opportunity." 

"Nay,"  she  said.  "I  am  in  no  mood  for  hard 
blows  to-night.  I  know  what  is  in  your  heart,  and 
mine  is  heavy  enough  without  that  added  burden. 
My  destruction  comes  apace  and  I  am  prepared. 
'Twas  your  brother,  Bardas,  you  resembled  for  a 
moment,  but  now  no  longer." 

"Do  you  speak  of  the  Protostrator,  Majesty?" 

"I  would  exalt  him  to  a  station  more  consonant 
with  his  rare  gifts.  Men  rate  Bardas  too  low.  He 
has  been  valuable  to  me." 


246  EUDOCIA 

"You  are  the  only  judge,"  he  answered.  "I  have 
some  admiration  for  him.  But  in  a  Churchman 
pride  of  race  is  blameworthy.  He  would,  however, 
grace  advancement.  Leave  him  now  and  listen.  I 
come  not  to  bring  trouble  or  warning — far  other- 
wise. I  am  the  messenger  of  amazing  and  joyful 
tidings." 

"There's  no  joy  but  in  freedom,  Patriarch." 

"We  both  know  that,  Eudocia  Augusta.  To 
spirits  such  as  ours,  freedom  is  the  air  we  breathe." 

She  showed  wonder  in  her  looks. 

"Why,  you  are  come  friendly  disposed!  I 
thought  you  hated  me  and  would  dethrone  me, 
because  I  was  a  woman." 

"Foolish  thought,"  he  answered.  "I  feared  for 
you  and  urged  a  happier,  holier  future  than  the 
throne  can  promise;  but  why  should  I  hate  God's 
anointed?  Eudocia,  I  have,  since  last  we  met, 
heard  mighty  messages  that  must  change  my  vision 
of  the  future.  Your  name  has  been  spoken 
melodiously  in  my  ears  on  sacred  tongues.  It  has 
been  murmured  to  me  on  immortal  lips,  for  in 
Heaven's  high  councils  you  are  remembered." 

"Blessed  news!  But  rather  would  I  hear  my 
unhappy  country  is  not  forgotten,  Patriarch." 

"It  is  not  forgotten,"   he  assured  her.     "The 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  247 

Mind  that  counts  the  sparrows  holds  both  this  stu- 
pendous realm  and  its  Sovereign.  We  are  within 
the  cognizance  of  the  Highest;  we " 

He  broke  off,  for  Bardas  approached  briskly  from 
the  vineyards. 

"A  suppliant,  Majesty,"  he  exclaimed.  "The 
vintagers  are  troubled  and  disconsolate.  Their 
rites  remain  undone,  and  while  the  sun  sets,  our 
sun  is  not  yet  risen.  The  folk  thirst  and  hunger 
for  you  to  bless  the  day's  labour." 

But  Eudocia  waved  him  away. 

"Anon,  dear  Bardas,"  she  said.  "I  have  much 
to  learn  of  your  brother.    He  has  a  message " 

"Your  pardon,"  replied  the  Protostrator,  with 
his  eye  on  Xiphilin.    "I  did  not  know " 

But  the  Patriarch  was  sternly  gracious. 

"If  Majesty  wills,  we  can  go  together,"  he  de- 
clared. "What  I  have  to  tell  should  be  wel- 
comed by  all  who  love  the  Queen ;  and  you,  Bardas, 
are  one  of  them." 

"My  life  is  hers,"  answered  the  younger 
reverently. 

"It  is  a  life  precious  to  me,"  murmured  Eudocia. 

Then  together  they  departed,  while  Xiphilin 
revealed  how  in  a  vision  he  had  learned  that 
Eudocia's  oath  must  be  annulled. 


248  EUDOCIA 

"Godless  men  still  dare  maintain  that  the  days 
of  miracles  are  passed,"  he  said.  "But  you  shall 
hear " 

They  passed  into  the  vines  and  a  mighty  shout 
greeted  Eudocia's  advent  to  pluck  the  royal 
bunches  of  custom. 

§  6 

Elsewhere  Psellus  and  the  Caesar  walked  to- 
gether and  awaited  Xiphilin.  But  the  priest  came 
not  and,  instead,  there  presently  appeared  M- 
cephorus.  They  saw  him  mark  them,  then  ap- 
proach. 

"Fortune  is  kind,"  he  declared,  as  he  greeted 
them;  "above  all  men  I  seek  you  twain.  Black 
news  is  up  on  bitter  wings,  Caesar." 

"At  last  then,  Mcephorus,  you  are  at  the  trouble 
to  discriminate  between  good  and  bad,  and  remain 
no  longer  indifferent." 

Psellus  spoke. 

"We  know  of  no  black  news,"  he  added.  "Per- 
chance the  blackness  lies  in  your  own  mind.  You 
will  not  tell  us  that  the  Patriarch  shares  your 
concern?" 

"No,  we  see  differently,"  admitted  Mcephorus. 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  249 

"Take  it,  then,  that  we  stand  with  him,  not  you." 

"  With  him,'  Michael  Psellus !  Know  you 
whither  he  is  going,  what  doing?  Such  a  man 
laughs  at  strategy  and  wastes  no  words  upon  the 
weak.  'With  him,'  you  say?  And  does  the  Caesar 
echo  that?    His  purpose " 

"We  know  it  and  all  the  world  knows  it.  John 
Ducas  mounts  the  throne,"  answered  Psellus. 

"Then  you  are  hoodwinked  also,  Michael — you, 
who  thought  that  you  could  read  to  the  heart  and 
pierce  all  disguises.  This  dethroning  of  the 
Monarch  is  but  a  stalking-horse,  the  feint  under 
cover  of  which  Xiphilin  pushes  his  real  forces  to 
the  battle." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Nicephorus?"  asked  the 
Caesar  in  bewilderment. 

"I  mean  the  dynasty!  Attend,  while  there  is 
time,  if  indeed  there  be  time  left  you.  Your  treach- 
ery— to  dethrone  Eudocia — he  smiled  upon  as  we 
smile  upon  the  chatter  of  children.  Have  you  of 
late  marked  the  Empress  and  Xiphilin's  brother?" 

"Her  eyes  are  much  on  him,"  admitted  John 
Ducas. 

"Her  secret  thoughts  also.  Can  you  not  see 
whereto  this  leads?  Let  but  Bardas  ascend  the 
throne  and  Xiphilin  is  omnipotent." 


250  EUDOCIA 

"Her  oath  makes  that  fancy  vain.  He  has  hood- 
winked you,  not  us,  if  he  pretends  any  such  thing," 
declared  Psellus. 

"Her  oath  lies  in  his  hand;  and  knowing  that 
Bardas  courts  her,  he  has  absolved  her  of  her  oath. 
Within  this  living  hour  she  shall  be  free  to  wed 
again !" 

"We  met  his  people,"  said  the  Caesar. 

"Yes — hastening  for  the  parchment.  Ere  you 
sleep,  the  oath's  annulled." 

Psellus  regarded  the  old  man  with  deep  sus- 
picion. 

"How  stand  you  to  this  monstrous  dream?"  he 
asked,  and  as  he  did  so,  faint  music  stole  from  the 
vineyards. 

"Thus  I  stand,"  replied  Mcephorus  calmly. 
"Rather  than  she  should  wed  a  Bardas,  I'd  see 
her  in  her  coffin.  Others  can  plot  as  well  as  you, 
Michael  Psellus,  and  go  deeper  far." 

"This,  if  the  truth,  is  a  stroke  against  our  blood — 
aimed  at  our  very  race,"  exclaimed  the  Caesar  in 
trepidation.  "Did  this  happen,  my  brother's  son 
would  never  see  the  throne.  We  must  smite  while 
the  power  is  ours." 

"Are  you  with  us,  or  against  us?"  asked  Psellus. 

"With  you,  so  long  as  you  will  that  this  shall  not 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  251 

be,"  answered  Nicephorus.  "Trust  me  and  I  can 
enlighten  you ;  doubt  me  and  I  proceed  alone.  But 
know  that  I  stand  absolutely  for  the  Empress 
against  all  who  would  oppose  her." 

"She  would  do  this  foul  thing  to  keep  her 
throne,"  declared  Psellus.  "No  less  an  ambition 
could  sink  her  to  Bardas.  It  is  an  infamy  against 
the  royal  dead." 

"Blame  her  not,  however,  since  you  know 
nothing.  How  should  you  judge  what  mighty 
forces  are  working  upon  her  heart?"  replied  Ni- 
cephorus. 

"Take  it  that  I  trust  you,  and  command  you  to 
aid  me  for  the  dynasty,"  urged  John  Ducas. 

"Trust  him  or  not,  we  may  trust  Romanus," 
declared  the  Prime  Minister.  "Diogenes  is  now 
our  hope.  Let  him  be  free  and  we  swiftly  turn  the 
tables  on  the  Church." 

"An  inspiration  that  I  willingly  acclaim," 
admitted  Nicephorus.  "You  hit  the  truth,  Michael. 
The  key  lies  with  Diogenes;  and  that  key  I 
hold." 

The  music  grew  louder,  flung  into  the  red  air  of 
evening  by  rough  voices  and  rough  instruments. 

"His  time  has  come,"  continued  Nicephorus. 
"Count  on  me  for  the  general.     Meanwhile  keep 


252  EUDOCIA 

cheerful  faces  now,  and  show  no  more  than  deep 
astonishment  when  he  voices  his  message.  But 
hide  your  hearts  and  waste  no  anger.  Question 
him,  as  you  design  to  do,  concerning  me,  and  he'll 
say  that  I  am  wise  and  worthy  of  trust.  He  will 
expect  opposition,  but  offer  him  none.  Restrain 
yourselves  and  let  him  not  guess  that  we  have 
spoken.  We'll  meet  when  the  world  slumbers. 
Pray  seek  me  after  midnight  at  my  house." 

He  went  his  way,  and  scarcely  had  disappeared, 
when  the  procession  from  the  vineyards  streamed 
into  their  view. 

Psellus  and  the  Caesar  spoke  hurriedly  to- 
gether. 

"Can  this  be  true?"  asked  John  Ducas,  and  the 
other  answered  that  he  believed  it. 

"To  what  end  should  Mcephorus  have  spoken 
if  it  were  false?"  he  responded.  "Only  a  Xiphilin 
could  have  conceived  such  gigantic  crime." 

"Shall  we  be  safe  with  Mcephorus?" 

"Yes,  if  we  oppose  the  Patriarch.  Meanwhile 
our  own  great  purpose  lies  in  the  dust.  This  means 
blood,  and  the  first  sword  out  will  shed  it. 
Romanus  must  be  freed.  Mcephorus  declares  Di- 
ogenes in  his  power,  and  if  that  be  so,  to-morrow 
will  prove  the  truth  of  it.    In  this  shuffle  we  must, 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  253 

for  the  present  time  at  least,  side  with  Nicephorus 
against  Xiphilin,  even  though  we  pretend  to  let 
the  Patriarch  convince  us." 

"He  has  forced  this  thing  upon  Eudocia,"  said 
John  Ducas;  but  the  other  denied  it. 

"Look  at  them,"  he  replied.  "See  how  she  walks 
between  Xiphilin  and  Bardas,  and  smiles  upon 
both.    Is  that  joy  unreal?" 

Now  came  the  Court,  to  rustic  music  played  on 
pipes  and  cymbals.  Eudocia  led  the  way  with  the 
priest  and  his  brother,  while  behind  them  followed 
the  women,  the  senators  and  a  brilliant  throng 
from  the  vineyards.  Michael  Ducas,  with  Theo- 
dora and  Gregoria,  laboured  along  under  mighty 
bunches  of  fruit;  then  marched  the  soldiers  to  the 
spears  they  had  left  stuck  in  the  ground  around 
the  glade,  and  resumed  their  stations.  There 
followed  the  vintagers  with  laden  hock  carts. 
Mounds  of  green  and  purple  fruit  were  piled  upon 
the  wains,  and  mighty,  mouse-coloured  bullocks, 
with  gilded  horns  and  melting  eyes,  drew  them. 
The  throng  of  country  men,  women,  and  children 
assembled  before  Eudocia;  then  their  music 
changed,  and  the  folk  sang  an  ancient  vintage  song, 
relic  of  pagan  days. 


254  EUDOCIA 

"The  Vintage  Song 

"Bless  ye  the  bud  and  pour  the  pearly  dew; 
Fling  forth  a  joy  of  green  once  more; 
Awake  the  glory  that  anew 
Leaps  in  a  living  fire  along  our  trellised  shore. 
*  Ah — yee  Theeoneesee ! 
Ah — yee  Theeoneesee! 


'Bless  ye  the  fragrant  blossoms  when  they  break 
Like  foam  upon  the  leafy  flood; 
Where  honey  bees  their  pleasure  take 
Before  the  nectar  mounts  to  make  the  berries'  blood. 

Ah — yee  Theeoneesee! 

Ah — yee  Theeoneesee! 


"Bless  ye  the  swelling  grape  and  load  the  bough 
With  purple  and  with  amber  bright ; 
The  while  we  praise  and  lift  our  vow, 
Kiss  earth  with  all  our  knees  and  own  they  godhead's 
might. 

Ah — yee  Theeoneesee! 
Ah — yee  Theeoneesee!" 


Others  had  joined  the  company  while  the  song 
was  a-singing,  for  Xiphilin's  deacons  returned,  his 
cross-bearer  and  acolyte  stood  beside  him,  and 
there  had  also  come  from  the  cathedral  a  throng  of 
priests  in  black  and  purple,  and  russet-clad  monks. 
They  brought  a  casket  of  gold  and  a  small  tripod 
whereon  now  fire  was  made.  Bardas  stood  beside 
Eudocia;  Psellus  and  the  Caesar  were  together  in 
converse  with  the  Patriarch.     The  Court,  aware 

*  A7te  Aioviaie  (phonetically  sung). 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  255 

that  some  unexpected  matter  was  forward,  grew 
intent,  clustering  like  bees  about  the  throne.  The 
vintagers  now  waited  for  their  expected  dole,  but 
the  bronze  coffer  that  bore  it  was  not  yet  to  be 
opened. 

Xiphilin  stood  forth  to  address  rich  and  poor 
with  melodious  flow  of  words,  while  the  sunset 
made  more  brilliant  a  concourse  already  splendid 
as  a  pride  of  peacocks. 

"It  is  fitting,"  cried  the  Patriarch,  "that  you 
who  have  now  celebrated  our  joyous  rite  of  God's 
good  harvest,  should  hear  my  weighty  words — 
noble  and  simple  alike — ere  home  you  go,  your 
duty  done  and  your  pleasure  taken.  For  I  have 
joyful  tidings  and  wondrous  news,  that  shall  echo 
like  heavenly  music  in  all  loyal  ears.  Let  it  be 
blazed  abroad,  to  glad  our  friends  and  terrify  our 
foes,  that  I,  the  humble  servant  of  you  all,  the  will- 
ing mediator  between  His  faithful  ones  and  most 
high  God,  have  seen  in  a  vision  an  angel  from 
the  realms  of  Light  and  heard,  out  of  his  celestial 
lips,  the  will  of  our  everlasting  Father. 

"Heaven,  ye  people,  hath  willed  that  Eudocia 
Augusta  shall  be  free.  Her  realm  demands  an 
earthly  King  to  share  the  throne,  and  the  King  of 


256  EUDOCIA 

Kings,  for  love  of  us  all,  directs  that  her  oath  to 
Constantine,  of  glorious  memory,  be  cancelled!" 

Those  who  apprehended  the  tremendous  signifi- 
cance of  this  utterance  held  their  breath  in  amaze- 
ment or  consternation,  while  the  peasants,  hardly 
understanding,  stared  in  wonder  upon  the  thrilled 
company  from  the  palace.  Through  the  emotion  of 
the  Court,  the  country  people  perceived  that  some 
tremendous  thing  was  about  to  happen. 

The  Patriarch,  having  spoken,  instantly  took  the 
golden  box  and,  opening  it,  drew  out  a  scroll  of 
vellum,  snowy  white  and  sealed  with  a  crimson 
seal,  that  hung  from  a  ribbon  of  silk. 

"Henceforth,"  he  said,  "our  Empress,  in  earthly 
liberty  but  under  heavenly  control,  must  now  fol- 
low where  the  Lord  may  will  to  lead  her  heart,  unto 
her  unknown  spouse;  for  with  this  parchment, 
which  I  now  consume  in  the  flames,  her  oath  van- 
ishes from  the  records  of  earth  and  Heaven  alike." 

He  gave  the  scroll  to  Eudocia  and  she  placed  it 
upon  the  brazier,  where  it  quickly  withered  into 
ashes.  All  was  done  with  the  utmost  celerity  and 
no  hands  from  the  dazed  throng  were  thrust  to 
intervene,  no  voices  lifted  to  question.  Thereupon 
the  people,  having  now  grasped  the  meaning  of  this 
liberation  and  seeing  future  nuptials,  future  holi- 


BESIDE  THE  VINEYARDS  257 

days,  feasting,  benefactions  and  great  hours  in  the 
hippodrome,  shouted  very  lustily. 

There  was  much  cheering  and  much  concern.  The 
old  men  grouped  and  bobbed  their  heads  behind  the 
throne;  the  priests  and  monks  held  together;  the 
folk  shouted  "Eudocia  Augusta!"  "A  King  for 
the  Queen !"    "A  husband  for  our  Empress !" 

Then  the  bronze  coffer  was  opened  and  young 
Michael  first  dipped  into  the  gold  it  contained,  to 
send  a  shower  flying  for  the  peasants.  Bardas, 
Gregoria,  Euphrosyne  and  other  young  men  and 
women  helped  him,  while  the  people,  scrambling  for 
their  gift,  cried  "Hail,  Prince !"  "Hail,  Michael, 
son  of  Constantine !"    "Hail,  the  Protostrator !" 

Xiphilin  spoke  aside  to  Psellus  and  the  Caesar, 
who  listened  with  amazement  but  displayed  no 
wrath ;  the  soldiers  stood  stiff  and  motionless,  and 
many  a  gold  piece  tinkled  against  their  armour 
where  they  stretched  in  a  line  between  the  Court 
and  the  struggling  peasants. 

Then  the  sun  sank  and  purple  shadows  spread 
through  the  roseal  light  that  still  descended  from 
above  upon  the  flash  and  glitter,  the  swift  surge 
and  movement,  the  shower  of  gold  pieces,  the  dust 
and  din  of  tumbling,  sprawling  men  and  boys. 

Radiant,    calm,    her    thoughts    with    Romanus 


258  EUDOCIA 

Diogenes  hidden  by  the  shore,  her  heart  envying 
every  drop  of  the  brook  that  hastened  to  him, 
Eudocia  sat  in  the  midst,  while  the  pipes  still 
pierced,  the  shouting  and  the  cymbals  crashed. 


CHAPTER     IV 

THE  CATHEDRAL 


CHAPTER     IV 

THE   CATHEDRAL 
§    1 

That  mighty  basilica  of  Justinian,  the  Church  of 
the  Divine  Wisdom,  lay  under  a  morning  of  cloud- 
less blue,  and  the  squat,  sunbaked  mass  of  it 
appeared  to  exude  bubbles,  where  the  gleaming 
domes  hove  up  above  the  walls.  St.  Sophia's  is 
best  appreciated  from  within.  Its  sprawling  plan 
robs  the  exterior  of  the  majesty  that  belongs 
thereto;  but  from  the  side  galleries,  or  within  the 
nave  its  grandeur  may  be  measured  and  its  dignity 
felt.  The  last  spoils  of  paganism  adorned  this  fane 
and  many  shrines  of  obsolescent  gods  were  robbed 
for  its  greater  glory.  We  know  also  that  Justinian 
himself,  clad  in  a  workman's  blouse,  laboured  with 
his  ten  thousand  workmen  and  master  builders; 
while,  when  all  slept  save  the  watchmen,  these 
guardians  related  how  angelic  hosts,  answering  to 
the  impatience  of  Heaven,  carried  on  the  work  by 
night.     Nor  should  it  be  forgotten  that  an  arch- 

261 


262  EUDOCIA 

angel  appeared  to  a  lad  who  minded  the  labourers' 
tools,  while  they  were  at  their  mid-day  meal,  and 
bade  him  recall  them  to  their  toil.  The  boy  hesi- 
tated to  abandon  his  duty,  but  the  spirit  com- 
manded and  gave  heavenly  promise  to  watch  faith- 
fully in  his  place  until  he  should  return.  Upon 
hearing  these  things  the  crafty  Emperor  instantly 
despatched  the  youth,  sending  him  for  life  to  the 
Cyclades;  and  thus  the  outwitted  archangel  still 
keeps  his  promise,  and  will  hold  watch  so  long  as 
St.  Sophia's  shall  stand. 

On  the  ruins  of  previous  churches  rose  this  mas- 
terpiece. Four  destructions  preceded  it,  and  as  we 
view  it  on  Eudocia's  wedding  day,  five  hundred 
years  and  more  after  its  erection,  a  venerable  age 
already  marked  the  pile.  It  was  a  building  already 
perhaps  the  most  interesting  in  the  world.  Mketas 
Choniates,  speaking  of  the  dome,  calls  it  "an  earthly 
heaven;  a  throne  of  Divine  magnificence,  an  image 
of  the  firmament  created  by  the  Almighty." 

But  this  flower  of  Byzantine  art  looked  other- 
wise than  now,  upon  the  morning  of  the  royal  nup- 
tials. A  cross  crowned  the  prodigious  fabric  then, 
and  the  four  marble  minarets,  to  be  raised  by 
Islam  in  later  centuries,  had  not  yet  leapt  from 
earth  at  the  conqueror's  will. 


THE  CATHEDRAL  263 

To-day  the  western  face  of  St.  Sophia's  was 
adorned  with  ten  thousand  silken  flags  and  wreaths 
of  flowers;  a  wide  crimson  cloth  spread  through 
the  porches  of  the  first  and  second  narthex  to  the 
Court  of  the  Medresse,  but  at  present  this  great 
space  was  empty,  guarded  by  troops  to  the  north 
and  south,  for  the  Factions  had  not  yet  been 
admitted. 

The  air  was  heavy  with  the  hum  of  myriads 
moving  in  the  city.  Minor  processions  came  and 
went  along  the  swarming  streets,  but  only  a  hand- 
ful might  hope  to  see  the  crown  of  the  pageant,  and 
those  earliest  afoot  were  already  in  the  cathedral 
gardens  and  the  Great  Court.  Thence  to  the  west- 
ern entry  the  way  was  barred ;  while  the  northern 
Court  had  been  reserved  and  covered  with  gay 
awnings  for  the  officers  of  State  and  those  bidden 
to  the  occasion. 

Soldiers  stood  together  before  the  western  en- 
trance, or  reclined  in  groups  about  the  balustrade 
of  the  stairway.  Their  duty  would  be  to  pen  the 
multitude  right  and  left  and  set  a  fence  of  spears 
between  them  and  the  processions  as  they  entered 
the  cathedral. 

Here,  under  the  pillars  of  the  first  narthex, 
strolled  three  men  already  clad  in  wedding  gar- 


264  EUDOCIA 

ments.  Mcephorus,  the  Caesar  and  Michael  Psellus 
were  met  before  the  event,  and  while  only  the  first 
knew  the  full  outcome  of  the  future,  John  Ducas 
and  the  historian  understood  from  him  that  the 
wedding  would  be  opposed  and  prevented  upon  the 
arrival  of  the  bride.  All  were  gorgeously  attired 
for  the  ceremonial;  the  royal  man  glittered  with 
precious  stones  and  precious  metal  from  his  diadem 
to  his  heels;  while  his  companions  only  shone  less 
splendid. 

Mcephorus  spoke. 

"It  is  thus  with  them,"  he  said.  "I  have  now 
delivered  to  the  Patriarch  my  ring,  which  sets 
Romanus  Diogenes  free.  The  Varangians  have 
learned  their  leader  returns  to  them,  and  though 
Xiphilin  dreams  that  he  has  the  Cappadocian  and 
his  forces  behind  himself  and  Bardas,  we  know 
otherwise.  What  shall  be  our  reward,  who  thus 
have  fooled  the  bulwark  of  Christian  Europe,  I 
dare  not  reflect." 

"He  has  earned  destruction,"  declared  the  Caesar, 
"and  deserves  that  it  should  fall  now;  when  he 
stands  at  the  summit  of  fancied  security — safe  with 
the  army,  and  safe  with  the  people,  who  welcome 
this  outrage  as  promising  more  trivial  pleasures  for 
themselves." 


THE  CATHEDRAL  265 

"And  there  lies  a  danger  we  ignore,"  added 
Michael  Psellus.  "The  people  do  most  heartily 
applaud  this  marriage,  and  both  Factions  will 
oppose  all  who  stand  against  it.  Granted  the  army 
is  omnipotent  and  comes  between  Bardas  and 
Eudocia,  what  have  we  to  offer  Constantinople  for 
its  disappointment?  The  Empress,  also,  will  need 
to  be  reckoned  with.  Now  that  she  is  free  of  her 
oath,  the  need  for  swift  deposition,  in  my  judg- 
ment, grows  greater  even  than  before." 

"She  will  not  brook  this  bitter  trial  easily,"  ad- 
mitted the  Caesar,  "or  remain  supine  before  the 
down-throw  of  her  dreams.  Moreover  the  nation 
will  support  her  cause.  To  deal  with  Xiphilin 
may  not  be  difficult  if  we  have  the  army ;  but  what 
if  Romanus  declines  to  move  against  the  Empress? 
My  thoughts  are  much  with  her  and  I  mourn  for 
the  woman's  griefs.  Indeed  this  may  break  her 
proud  heart." 

"Freed  from  dread  of  threatened  kingship,  John 
Ducas  breathes  again,"  commented  Nicephorus. 
"Mourn  her  not,  soft-hearted  Caesar.  In  her  reso- 
lute spirit  lies  a  precious  possession — the  touch- 
stone of  kings.  Her  sure  determination  has  ever 
been  to  put  the  State  before  personal  desire,  and 
when  the  deadly  danger  and  real  meaning  of  her 


266  EUDOGIA 

love  for  Bardas  are  set  before  her  presently,  she 
will  renounce  him  and  bend  to  circumstance." 

"It  is  well  to  prophesy,  but  who  shall  convince 
her  on  the  very  threshold  of  her  longed-for 
happiness?" 

"Not  you,  Michael,  nor  the  Caesar,  nor  I.  To-day, 
since  the  people's  destiny  is  involved,  we  will  let 
them  cast  the  vote  and  strut,  for  once,  the  centre  of 
the  stage.  What  more  seemly,  for  do  they  not  love 
her  and  proclaim  her  their  Mother?  Our  stroke 
shall  be,  then,  to  cast  the  burthen  on  them,  know- 
ing that  under  skilled  inspiration,  they  will  carry 
it  which  way  we  intend." 

Psellus  showed  impatience. 

"Still  you  play  with  ambiguous  words  and  keep 
us  groping,"  he  answered.  "The  people  have  al- 
ready chosen.  They  rejoice  that  Bardas  shall  be 
King  and  dote  on  him  for  the  new  toys  he  has 
already  promised  them.  They  will  most  surely 
stand  beside  the  Patriarch." 

"And  the  Senate  also  goes  with  Xiphilin  to  a 
man,"  explained  John  Ducas.  "He  has  won  the 
highest  to  his  side  with  fabulous  bribes  and 
squandered  the  wealth  of  the  Church  in  secret. 
He  has  forgotten  nothing.  He  may,  indeed,  have 
won  Romanus  behind  our  backs." 


THE  CATHEDRAL  W7 

"That,  at  least,  should  be  beyond  his  power." 
replied  Nicephorus;  "and  for  the  Factions  and 
Senate,  they  are  made  alike,  to  barter  the  common 
weal  for  pleasure  and  pelf.  They  do  not  hide  their 
mean  ambitions.  But  keep  steadfast  hearts.  To- 
day a  comet  should  reign  over  us,  for  great  omens 
are  to  come  and  you  shall  see  twain  mighty  forces 
combining,  to  flow  in  one  resistless  flood.  The 
Crown  and  People  will  move  in  harmonious  unison ; 
I  see  the  certainty  and  greet  already  the  result. 
Believe  me,  within  this  hour  our  self-sacrificing 
Eudocia  shall  weave  a  new  and  living  bond  be- 
tween her  heart  and  theirs." 

Psellus  shook  his  head. 

"An  idle  fantasy.  Did  you  not  once  remind 
Xiphilin  that  she  was,  after  all,  a  woman?  Now 
yourself  you  need  to  remember  that.  You  assume 
that  she  will  sacrifice  all  that  she  desires  and  hopes 
without  a  murmur,  or  a  pang,  and  fling  herself 
upon  the  people.  But  if  you  knew  the  awful  km 
of  women  for  those  who  win  their  hearts,  you'd 
perceive  that  this  nebulous  idea — her  goodwill  to 
the  mingled  rout  she  calls  her  nation — must  weigh 
as  thistledown  against  it.  Her  love  for  Bardas  is 
the  life's  blood  in  her  veins;  her  affection  for  her 
people,   one   with    the    regalia   and   trappings   of 


268  EUDOCIA 

royalty — donned  for  the  public  eye,  and  no  more 
a  part  of  the  woman  than  her  clothes." 

"Most  true,"  declared  the  Caesar.  "This  appal- 
ling surprise  and  discomfiture  may  well  unseat  her 
reason  and  disgrace  the  day.  She  might  even 
publicly  renounce  the  Throne.  And  what  is  worst 
and  most  calculated  to  drown  her  spirit  in  gall 
appears  in  this:  that  Romanus  Diogenes  strikes 
the  fatal  blow." 

"We  strike  the  blow;  he  drives  it  home,"  said 
Michael  Psellus. 

"She  is  made  of  far  sterner  stuff  than  any  man 
can  guess  at,"  answered  Eudocia's  ancient  coun- 
sellor.    "Believe  me,  we  can  trust  her." 

"Even  so,  you  certainly  cannot  trust  the  people 
to  oppose  her.  What  if  they  insist  on  the  Protos- 
trator?"  asked  Psellus. 

Then  the  great  bell  of  the  cathedral  beat  noon, 
and  Mcephorus  reminded  his  companions  that  the 
tolling  stood  for  a  signal. 

"We  will  get  within  for  a  space  and  address 
them  presently  before  the  Patriarch,  when  they 
have  settled  to  their  stations.  As  for  your  question, 
Michael  Psellus,  trust  me  a  little  yet,  both  of  you 
— at  least  in  this:  to  make  such  short  work  with 
our  Protostrator  that  he'll  vanish  like  a  leaf  in  the 


THE  CATHEDRAL  269 

wind  before  the  breath  of  the  public  lungs.  They 
love  him  not :  only  what  he  gives  them.  When  did 
the  people  know  gratitude?" 

They  retired  into  the  cathedral  and  there  still 
walked  and  talked,  while  the  barriers  fell  in  many 
streets  and  both  the  Factions,  like  a  sea  of  billows, 
green  and  blue,  came  surging  to  the  cathedral 
steps.  They  poured  to  their  appointed  places,  the 
"Greens"  upon  one  side,  the  "Blues"  upon  the  other, 
while  the  soldiers  lowered  their  spears  to  form  a 
pale,  waist-high,  between  the  shouting  thousands 
and  the  central  ascent  under  its  crimson  carpet. 
For  once  the  Factions  were  in  holiday  humour. 
Indeed,  of  late  years  their  differences  had  become 
trifling,  and  the  terrific  battles  and  bloodshed  of 
Justinian  days  were  forgotten.  Most  vital  ques- 
tions now  stood  composed,  and  their  rivalries  cen- 
tred in  the  hippodrome;  their  opposed  champions 
were  athletes.  The  Empress  found  herself  well 
beloved  by  both  parties,  and  they  brought  nothing 
but  good  temper  to  the  present  festival.  They  bel- 
lowed cheerfully  across  the  intervening  space,  ex- 
changed the  names  of  great  men  and  chaffed  their 
mail-clad  guardians,  while  they  fluttered  their 
scarves  and  displayed  on  a  hundred  banners  of 
welcome  their  rival  colours.    Chiefly  they  cried  for 


270  EUDOCIA 

"Bardas"  with  high  approval.  About  the  Protos- 
trator's  name  centred  such  friendship  and  regard 
that  it  seemed  already  the  crown  was  upon  his 
head.  Yet  one  who  knew  the  mob  and  its  heart 
from  the  experience  of  a  lifetime,  came  now  with- 
out fear  to  throw  down  the  idol  of  the  hour. 

Eminent  men  ascended  the  steps  and  entered  the 
cathedral.  They  were  greeted,  some  with  applause, 
some  with  hisses;  and  when  their  popularity  be- 
longed to  one  Faction  alone,  mingled  cheers  and 
groans  awaited  them  as,  impervious  to  either,  they 
appeared. 

Then  the  great  central  door  of  St.  Sophia's  was 
thrown  open  and  a  concourse  streamed  out  from 
under  the  shadows  of  the  first  narthex  and  grouped 
above  the  people.  There  came  bishops,  priests  and 
monks — the  prelates,  bright  as  birds  of  paradise, 
in  copes  and  mitres.  A  host  of  lesser  dignatories 
surrounded  them,  while  Xiphilin,  shining  in  utmost 
splendour,  followed  under  a  towering  cross  of  gems. 
Mcephorus,  Psellus  and  the  Caesar  were  with  him. 
They  stood  at  his  right  hand,  while  he  addressed 
the  Factions. 

Men  and  women  had  knelt  at  his  entrance,  and 
now  all  rose  to  their  feet  and  listened  to  his 
harangue. 

"Auspicious  the  hour  and  happy  this  people !" 


THE  CATHEDRAL  271 

began  the  Patriarch,  "for  here  are  we  united  in  the 
hands  of  faith,  loyalty  and  love,  making  common 
cause  to  bless  our  own  good  fortune.  Yes,  happy 
indeed  are  ye,  for  Heaven  bestows  upon  your 
Kingdom  one  ye  have  long  honoured,  to  share  the 
life  of  our  sovereign  lady.  My  noble  brother, 
Bardas,  loves  you  too,  and  none  before  his  time 
hath  wrought  so  faithfully,  so  zealously  to  give  the 
people  joy.  Oh,  ye  Factions,  how  little  did  I  guess 
that  when  the  Empress  was  released  by  Heaven  of 
her  bond,  a  radiant,  human  love  should  light  her 
pathway  to  one  of  my  own  race!  Yet  now  the 
ancient  and  unsullied  line  from  which  I  spring  is 
called  both  to  the  heights  of  Church  and  State, 
where,  in  the  name  of  God,  and  ever  jealous  for  His 
righteousness,  as  Priest  and  King,  we  dedicate 
ourselves  unto  your  eternal  and  temporal  welfare." 

The  Factions  cheered  and  manifested  utmost 
enthusiasm.  "Eudocia  and  Bardas!"  they  cried; 
and  "Long  life  for  the  Patriarch !" 

Psellus  spoke  to  Nicephorus. 

"How  shall  you  change  that  concurrent  and 
emphatic  howl  of  one  united  will?"  he  asked ;  while 
C«sar  uttered  a  vain  wish. 

"If  we  could  get  the  Factions  in  two  minds,"  he 
said. 

"Nay ;  in  one  mind  I  would  have  them,"  answered 


272  EUDOCIA 

the  elder.  "In  one  mind,  so  that  they  wheel  to- 
gether simultaneously,  like  birds  that  warp  upon 
the  air,  when  an  impulse  changes  their  direction 
and  turns  the  flight  of  a  thousand  as  the  flight  of 
one.  Soon  they  shall  dart  to  a  new  purpose,  as 
shoals  of  shadow-frightened  fishes  dart — inspired 
by  sudden  fear  of  ill." 

"Where  is  the  syren  voice  can  turn  this  multi- 
tude from  its  settled  hope?"  asked  Psellus. 

"A  weather-cock  answers  one  wind  at  a  time — 
and  that  the  last,"  replied  the  statesman. 

Then  Xiphilin  approached. 

"Speak  to  them,  Mcephorus,"  he  said.  "They 
desire  at  all  times  to  hear  your  voice." 

"Why,  so  I  will,"  answered  the  old  man,  and 
Xiphilin  turned  to  the  Factions. 

"Give  heed  to  your  lifelong  friend,  the  most 
noble  Mcephorus,"  he  cried,  and  the  folk  shouted 
"Mcephorus !"  "Our  friend !"  "Hail,  Mcephorus !" 

The  counsellor  stood  out  before  them,  and 
Psellus,  before  he  left  his  side,  whispered  a  word. 

"We'll  guard  you  if  they  show  their  teeth." 

But  the  old  man  feared  nothing. 

"My  tongue  has  already  saved  my  life,"  he  said, 
"and  may  again.  As  for  these,  I  fear  them  less 
than  an  old  harper  dreads  the  strings  he  strikes. 


THE  CATHEDRAL  273 

The  mob  is  a  lyre  easily  played  upon,  given  mastery 
in  the  performer.  If  I  waken  discords  blame  me, 
not  them." 

He  turned  to  the  Factions,  gravely  saluting  both 
"Greens"  and  "Blues"  before  he  addressed  them. 

"Listen  well  to  me,  ye  last  holders  of  the  glori- 
ous name  of  Rome ;  give  heed  before  it  is  too  late, 
lest  infamy  and  statecraft  turn  this  city  to  a  prison- 
house,  whose  gaolers  stamp  out  your  liberties  with 
iron-shod  feet.  To-day,  even  in  this  glad  hour,  our 
foes  threaten  to  strangle  all  our  feeble  strength, 
and  fear  no  more  our  answer  than  the  wail  of  gnats. 
But  shall  our  courage  and  our  virtue  also  be  stolen 
from  us?  Is  our  genius  dead  that  we,  whose  feet 
have  trampled  Asia  and  left  their  stamp  on  all 
foreign  earths,  now  whine  as  though  we  were  chil- 
dren hurried  off  to  bed  because  the  sun  has  set? 
With  you,  men  of  the  Factions,  now  it  lies  to  an- 
swer and  determine  whether  court  intrigues  and 
party  interest,  personal  hatreds,  frauds  and  dark 
diplomacy,  hatched  in  corners  out  of  sight,  shall 
fatally  wound  your  glorious  destiny,  befoul  your 
patriot  hopes,  destroy  your  fame  and  bind  you  and 
your  children  hand  and  foot — defenceless  slaves." 

"Cease!  Cease!"  cried  Xiphilin.  "Are  you  mad, 
Nicephorus?     What   key    is   this   to   tune    their 


274  EUDOCIA 

thoughts  on  Eudocia's  wedding  day?  What  peril- 
ous ground  do  you  tread?" 

"And  fearlessly  tread  since  I  am  shod  with  the 
shoon  of  candour,"  answered  the  other  for  all  to 
hear.  "Now  I  play  no  more  on  one  man's  heart, 
but  seek  to  wake  some  echo  of  the  old,  mighty  music 
from  the  hearts  of  the  nation.  The  way  that  we 
shall  tread  lies  upon  firm,  not  perilous,  ground, 
Patriarch  of  the  East ;  the  pitfalls  gape  on  yours !" 

He  turned  again  to  the  people. 

"To  loyalty  and  manhood  I  address  myself — to 
these  who  are  Constantinople.  Men,  men,  be  deaf 
no  more  to  the  gathering  moan  and  murmur  at  the 
very  palace  doors  of  your  Byzantium ;  be  blind  no 
more  to  the  despotism  subtly  planned  by  this  un- 
priestly  hierarch !  All  action  is  caged  and  shackled 
by  his  cunning.  He  plots  away  your  sole  and 
sacred  heritage — free  thought  for  all  free  people; 
and  by  the  chains  that  he  has  forged  in  secret  and 
to-day  would  publicly  set  upon  the  necks  of  us  all, 
we're  doubly  bound,  in  mind  and  body.  Thus  shall 
we  be  an  innocent  prey  to  our  enemies,  who  crouch 
at  hand  to  make  the  tiger  spring  that  lays  us  dead ! 
No  nation  can  survive  such  a  double  yoke;  and  if 
you  still  would  save  your  liberty,  then  rise,  all  men 


THE  CATHEDRAL  275 

as  one,  deny  and  confound  these  nuptials,  fight  for 
liberty  before  it  is  too  late !" 

Immense  commotion  ran  like  a  heaving  wave 
through  the  multitude.  About  Xiphilin,  now 
grown  flaming  and  furious,  the  churchmen 
thronged;  while  the  "Greens"  and  "Blues"  listened 
in  mingled  alarm  and  doubt.  Thus  far  Nicephorus 
had  held  them;  but  now,  while  many  shouted  ap- 
proval, others  sided  with  the  Patriarch  and  cried 
"traitor"  against  him.  These  and  himself  now 
Xiphilin  voiced  in  furious  passion.  He  seemed 
disposed  to  rush  upon  Nicephorus,  and  threatened 
Heaven's  aid  to  destroy  him. 

"Peace,  profane  and  traitorous  wretch!"  he 
cried,  "else  will  I  call  God's  Hand  upon  thy 
throat." 

Nicephorus  made  answer,  but  to  the  people,  not 
the  Patriarch. 

"The  traitor  lies  in  the  heart  under  that  breast- 
plate," he  replied.  "Courtiers — priests — eunuchs 
— that  is  the  servile  pageant  Empress  Eudocia  is 
bidden  to  keep — that  is  the  foul  stuff  through 
which  she  has  to  step  day  by  day.  And  that 
masquerade  is  all  we  show  the  world.  We  play  at 
life ;  we  abuse  our  womanish  manhood  and  wander 


276  EUDOCIA 

in  shameless  dreams,  like  rustics  through  a  fair 
gaping  at  shows.  Come,  ye  listening  men,  tell  me, 
tell  me,  where  are  the  Nation's  triumphs?  In  the 
hippodrome.  Whence  spring  our  heroes?  Only 
from  the  circus.  Where  blaze  our  mightiest  strokes 
of  grandeur,  splendour,  power?  In  church ;  so  that 
we  find  clergymen,  gladiators  and  charioteers  are 
all  we  can  number  to  defeat  Alp  Arslan,  when  the 
Saracens  come  with  fifty  thousand  spears.  Where 
are  our  spears?  Where  is  the  sword  of  fire  whose 
flash  aforetime  blinded  half  the  world?  Where 
are  those  men  whose  tramplings  shook  the  earth 
and  flung  their  thunder  to  the  stars?  Tell  me 
where  has  vanished  that  ancient  music?  Tell  me 
why  you  better  love  the  blare  of  circus  trumpets 
and  the  moan  of  organ  reeds  shaken  by  the  wind? 
But  such  weak  melodies  reach  not  to  any  fainting 
province;  they  who  thirst  to  hear  salvation  on  the 
march  will  not  be  comforted  with  our  hymns. 

"The  Franks  are  near — those  barbarians,  num- 
berless and  grim  as  death,  whom  the  genius  of  a 
Charlemagne  summoned  from  the  antres  of  the 
North  and  made  into  a  people.  The  Arabs,  our 
old,  inveterate  foes,  waste  the  Empire,  slaughter 
your  brothers  like  rats  and  drive  your  sisters  into 
cursed  slavery.     The  Latins  hate  our  name  and 


THE  CATHEDRAL  277 

hound  us  from  their  sight;  the  Ottomans  trample 
the  futile  servants  of  Christ  beneath  their  horses' 
hooves,  laughing  at  us  and  whipping  us  for  our 
cowardice.  And  now,  while  helpless,  friendless, 
stricken,  we  stand  the  scorn  of  Christendom,  there 
shines  suddenly  a  light  above  our  heads!  We  are 
not  forgotten,  my  patient  friends,  and  on  celestial 
paths  from  Heaven,  a  new  hope  sweeps  to  warm  our 
hearts  and  save  our  souls.  The  Empress  is  free; 
Eudocia  Augusta  lies  in  the  hollow  of  her  people's 
hand;  and  love  of  any  human  lover  is  nought  to 
her  compared  with  her  love  of  that  wide  and  glori- 
ous humanity  which  makes  up  her  nation.  Her 
first,  deepest,  purest  passion  is  yours  alone.  And 
this  I  tell  you  and  in  her  royal  ear  shall  proclaim, 
that  in  these  awful  times,  the  Nation  must  be 
leader.  It  is  for  you,  fathers  of  Constantinople,  to 
stand  upon  your  immemorial  right  and  in  your 
citizen  wisdom  see  that  for  our  Emperor  we  have 
a  man — a  man  of  regal  might,  a  man  of  war,  a  man 
of  sovereign  strength  to  do  your  will  and  stem  this 
tide  of  evil  that  flows  in  flood  to  sweep  all  away !" 
Nicephorus  with  these  easy  platitudes  was  break- 
ing down  what  opposition  remained.  His  naked 
adulation  tickled  ten  thousand  ears.  The  people 
shouted  "Nicephorus  knows!"     "We  are  the  wise 


278  EUDOCIA 

ones!"  "A  man  for  Emperor!"  "A  mighty  man 
to  reign  over  us!" 

The  old  fox  proceeded : 

"Most  sagely  spoken,  and  in  you  alone  can  she 
trust  at  this  great  hour ;  there  is  none  else,  for  your 
deep  voice  and  not  the  buzz  of  Court,  or  Church, 
echoes  the  eternal  mandate.  A  man  of  men  is  our 
vital  need,  and  woe  betide  the  statecraft  that  would 
fob  you  off  with  shadows.  You  are  right — i Blues' 
and  'Greens'  both;  and  look  to  it  that  you  have 
your  way  while  yet  you  can;  for  fail  now,  and 
swift,  bloody  Nemesis  will  fling  all  in  the  dust." 

"Who  but  a  man  shall  wed  her?"  roared 
Xiphilin.  "Where's  the  man  to  vie  with  Bardas 
in  the  nation's  love  and  honour?  Who  is  dearer 
to  the  hearts  of  all  than  he,  thou  traitor  to  the 
Throne?" 

"  'Traitor?' "  asked  Nicephorus.  "Yes,  high 
priest,  to  thee  I  am  a  traitor,  but  not  to  them,  and 
not  to  their  Empress.  Shall  this  tame  thing — this 
keeper  of  hawks  and  hounds  be  rayed  in  the  sacred 
purple?  Shall  this  spark  with  a  curled  beard,  who 
plays  a  dulcimer  and  kisses  women's  fingers,  win 
the  smile  of  Mars  and  lop  the  heads  of  a  million 
foes?  Shall  this  poppinjay,  so  skilled  in  taming 
gazelles  and  love  birds,  know  how  to  tame  Alp 


THE  CATHEDRAL  279 

Arslan  when  he  meets  him  face  to  face,  but  not 
rather  ape  Jehovah  and  show  only  his  hinder  parts? 
Shall  Bardas,  who  pours  ointment  on  his  hair,  pour 
fire  upon  the  Saracens?  Shall  he,  who  bathes  his 
carcase  in  milk  and  wine,  while  children  are  hungry 
and  men  thirsty,  go  forth  in  galling  steel  to  drive 
off  the  wolves,  whose  howling  upon  stilly  nights 
echoes  its  baleful  promise  along  our  walls?  Shall 
mincing,  faithless,  shameless  Bardas  come  as  the 
day  spring  of  our  hopes  to  lift  the  sun  and  wake 
the  clarions  of  victory?  Never  while  we  are  sane !" 
At  this  significant  moment  fate  smiled  upon 
Nicephorus  and  brought  the  Procession  of  the 
Bridegroom. 


§  2 


The  Protostrator  had  followed  his  mind's  meagre 
bent,  and  thinking  to  win  all  by  the  reminder  of 
those  pastimes  for  which  he  stood,  brought  along 
with  him  a  train  of  circus  folk — gladiators,  chario- 
teers of  the  "Green"  and  "Blue,"  boxers,  acrobats 
and  huge  beasts,  presently  to  fight  and  perish  upon 
each  other's  horns  and  tusks  for  the  pleasure  of  the 
mob.    Elephants,  tigers,  rhinoceroses,  chained  and 


280  EUDOCIA 

guarded,  came  first  and  passed  by  the  silent 
Factions.  Then,  when  they  were  gone,  followed 
the  great  performers  and  favourites,  and  presently 
there  marched  the  bridegroom's  bodyguard — a  hun- 
dred little  boys,  long-haired,  clad  like  parokeets  and 
flashing  in  the  sunshine. 

Lastly  walked  Bardas  alone — a  very  rainbow — in 
a  long  frock  stiff  with  gems,  a  hat  of  gold  upon  his 
brow  and  a  heavy  wand  of  gold  in  his  hand.  But 
his  pageant  departed  to  bewildering  silence  that 
already  made  his  knees  shake ;  and  as  he  ascended 
the  crimson  footcloth,  his  heart  also  shook,  for 
instead  of  the  thunder  of  applauding  thousands  he 
had  counted  upon,  there  came  to  his  dumbfounded 
ear  a  deep-mouthed  growl. 

Then  Mcephorus  continued: 

"See  your  salvation,  Constantinople!  Welcome 
your  Emperor!  Kneel  to  this  doll  who  toddles  to 
the  Throne  of  the  East!" 

There  came  the  answering  roar:  "No  Bardas!" 
"Away  with  him!"    "Give  us  a  man!" 

The  Protostrator  in  acute  alarm  reached  his 
brother's  side,  to  find  that  all  had  gone  amiss.  But 
Xiphilin  was  quick  to  counsel. 

"Treason  is  loose — treason  to  the  Queen  and  her 


THE  CATHEDRAL  281 

affianced,"  he  said.  "Caesar  gapes  like  a  stuck  pig 
and  this  hoary  knave  is  set  to  ruin  our  cause.  They 
yell  for  a  man;  then  show  them  you  are  a  man! 
Draw  your  blade  and  strike  down  Nicephorus.  He 
stands  for  nothing  but  himself.  Let  the  Factions 
see  you  will  not  brook  this  villainy.  Slay  him 
before  them,  and  they  will  do  the  rest." 

His  words  fell  over  each  other  and  he  trembled 
with  fury. 

Nicephorus  spoke. 

"Aye,  they  will  do  the  rest;  therefore  yield  to  a 
greater  power  than  your  own.  Our  people  have 
heard  and  their  eyes  have  seen.  They  do  not  will 
this  puppet  set  upon  the  throne  for  you  to  pull  the 
strings.  Wise  they  are  and  most  prevenient.  They 
dare  not  see  the  tables  of  our  law  derided  by  a 
priest." 

"What  of  the  Empress  then?"  asked  Bardas,  his 
hand  on  his  dagger,  his  heart  fluttering  under  the 
gathering  din  of  the  Factions. 

"She  has  yet  to  know  her  people's  will,"  answered 
Nicephorus.  "That,  indeed,  we  all  must  know  and 
reverence." 

Bardas  turned  to  his  brother  and  spoke  in  his 
ear. 


l'Sl'  EUDOCIA 

"We're  safe  enough.  Romanus  Diogenes  is  free 
and  with  his  legions.  They  will  be  here  as  swiftly 
as  the  Empress,  to  succour  us  and  her." 

"Do  we  know  that  he  will  pardon  her?"  asked 
Xiphilin. 

"We  do,"  answered  Bardas.  "I  was  with  him 
in  secret  last  night  and  have  his  oath  that  he  is  on 
her  side." 

Then  Michael  Psellus  joined  in  the  perfidy  of 
intrigue,  cross  lies  and  oaths.  He  had  planned  to 
side  with  the  Patriarch  until  the  last  moment; 
though  neither  he  nor  John  Ducas  knew  of  this 
final  throw  and  the  larger  scheme  of  Mcephorus,  to 
let  the  Factions  play  out  their  comedy.  Now  the 
historian  spoke  to  Xiphilin  and  still  posed  as  his 
friend. 

"Be  of  good  hope.  He  is  near.  Under  this  up- 
roar I  hear  the  steady  fall  of  the  Varangians'  feet. 
He'll  strike  at  Eudocia's  nod,  and  silence  this  mad 
trash." 

The  Factions  were  out  of  hand ;  they  shouted  for 
Nicephorus  and  howled  against  the  bridegroom, 
where  he  stood  among  the  churchmen.  The  guard 
held  men  and  women  back  with  difficulty,  and  here 
and  there  they  smote  with  flat  swords  to  quell  the 
ringleaders. 

"A  man  for  Emperor !"  roared  the  mob.    "Bardas 


THE  CATHEDRAL  283 

shall  not  reign!"  "The  Patriarch  shall  not  reign 
over  ns !"    "No  priest  for  Emperor !" 

At  the  height  of  the  confusion  the  royal  trumpets 
thrilled  and  restored  peace.  Their  silvery  scream 
grew  nearer,  and  the  Procession  of  the  Bride 
approached. 

For  the  Empress  remained  a  generous  and 
friendly  greeting.  "Eudocia  Augusta!"  "Our 
Queen!"  "Our  Mother!"  began  to  shout  the 
people. 

Meantime  Xiphilin  doubted  and  answered 
Psellus. 

"Who  can  be  sure  that  Romanus  is  loyal?  It- 
was  he — this  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing — who  yielded 
me  the  ring  to  set  him  free." 

"The  biter's  bit,"  replied  Psellus.  "A  mightier 
wolf  than  he  shall  consume  him,  and  soon  his 
venomous  carcass  will  writhe  under  a  thousand 
swords,  since  that  coward  fears  to  strike." 

He  pointed  at  Bardas,  but  the  Protostrator  was 
far  beyond  any  shame  at  personal  insults.  His  ears 
strained  for  the  armies;  his  terrified  eyes  thirsted 
for  Romanus. 

"When  he  comes  we  will  withdraw  with  Eudocia 
into  the  cathedral,  and  he  can  hold  the  populace  at 
the  door  until  we're  wed,"  he  told  them. 

Then  he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  relief. 


284  EUDOCIA 

"The  armies  move!"  he  cried.  "Hold  together 
a  minute  longer  and  we  are  saved.' ' 

The  distant  tramp  deepened  and  all  heard  great 
forces  marching. 

A  tremor  seized  Bardas.  He  clutched  the  shoul- 
der of  his  brother. 

"My  God !  If  she  has  changed  her  mind  I  shall 
lose  my  head,  Xiphilin." 

"She  has  not  changed  her  mind.  It  is  these  dregs 
of  the  city,  stirred  by  him,  that  threaten  this 
dangerous  evil.  It  is  he  and  you,  who  lacked  man- 
hood to  slay  the  old  ruffian,  who  are  equally  to 
blame." 

"Eudocia  Augusta!  Eudocia,  Empress!" 
"Welcome  our  Mother!"  "God  bless  our 
Queen!"  So  shouted  the  Factions  as  the  Bride's 
Procession  poured  out  before  the  cathedral  steps. 

In  an  open  litter  came  Eudocia  with  a  guard  of 
Court  soldiery  about  her — giants,  every  man.  She 
was  clad  in  white  and  moved  like  a  woman  made 
of  pearl.  The  tiara  was  upon  her  head,  and  in  her 
hands  the  orb  and  sceptre.  Girls  flung  a  shower 
of  flowers  before  her  feet  as  she  alighted,  and  the 
crimson  cloth  was  soon  white  with  a  snow  of 
blossoms.  Her  son,  Michael,  walked  beside  her  as 
her  own  page,  and  behind  them  came  fifty  maidens 


THE  CATHEDRAL  285 

all  in  azure,  wearing  golden  chaplets  from  which 
floated  rosy  veils.  Following  them  walked  Irene 
and  Gregoria,  Maria  and  Euphrosyne,  with  many 
matrons  and  noble  women ;  but  Theodora  was  ill  of 
a  fever  and  could  not  come.  Senators  and  Patri- 
cians crowded  upon  this  company,  and  when  the 
Patriarch  descended  to  meet  Eudocia,  the  Factions, 
with  one  hurricane  shout  of  greeting,  flung  out 
their  scarves  on  either  side  of  the  great  stairway  in 
a  whirlwind  of  blue  and  green.  Joy  and  welcome 
was  in  the  thunder  of  their  cheering,  and  for  a 
moment  it  seemed  that  Bardas  had  been  forgot. 
But  still  the  people  cried :    "A  man  for  Emperor !" 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Michael  Psellus  took 
his  opportunity  to  quit  the  priestly  forces  and 
range  himself  where  the  Caesar  stood  beside 
Nicephorus. 

And  then  the  truth  burst  upon  Eudocia's  senses 
and  she  revealed  amazement  at  an  ugly  sound 
which  greeted  her  betrothed  as  he  thrust  forward 
after  his  brother.  She  had  reached  the  upmost 
step  and  welcomed  Bardas,  when  the  harsh  peal 
struck  her. 

"Down  with  him!"  "Down  with  Bardas!" 
Xiphilin  shall  not  reign!"  yelled  the  mob,  its 
many  eyes  on  Nicephorus. 


286  EUDOCIA 

Eudocia  started,  then  stood  still,  as  though  sud- 
denly turned  into  a  glittering  white  stone.  She 
moved  at  last  and  handed  the  orb  and  sceptre  to  a 
chamberlain.    Then  she  addressed  the  Protostrator. 

"What  is  here,  Bardas?  Why  this  frosty  wel- 
come?   Do  they  not  love  you?" 

"I  thought  they  did,"  he  answered.  "But  yonder 
aged  serpent  you  set  free  has  been  pouring  poison 
in  their  ears." 

"And  into  their  hearts,"  added  Xiphilin.  "Here, 
on  holy  ground,  he  preached  sedition  and  opposed 
their  love  for  us  all." 

"Mcephorus !"  cried  Eudocia  in  a  sudden  silence, 
while  every  eye  searched  her. 

"Aye,  that  villain  damned  to  the  uttermost  hell 
of  Judas  and  black  Brutus!"  answered  Xiphilin. 
"See  now  how  the  Caesar  ranges  beside  him,  and 
Psellus — our  friend  till  you  appeared — has  also 
gone  over.  Slay  him  now!  Bid  them  destroy  the 
man  before  your  people  and  cleanse  the  infected 
air.  Only  his  death  will  convince  this  besotted 
multitude  that  he  is  false.  Bid  Bardas  draw  and 
smite  him  under  Heaven's  avenging  eye!" 

Eudocia  exhibited  profound  astonishment,  con- 
fusion and  grief. 


THE  CATHEDRAL  287 

"Then  is  Nicephorus  not  our  friend?"  she  asked. 

"Your  bitterest  enemy  on  earth — the  devil  that 
would  bring  down  Church  and  Throne  together." 

All  waited  for  Eudocia's  answer,  and  she  spoke 
clear  and  loud. 

"If  that  be  so,  you,  Bardas,  who  have  come  to 
wed  your  Queen,  draw  instantly  your  dagger  and 
slay  her  foe." 

But  the  craven  was  powerless. 

"I — I — cannot  send  his  sinful  soul  to  hell.  I 
have  never  slain  a  man." 

"Then  slay  yourself — that's  not  to  slay  a  man!" 
piped  a  thin,  acid  voice.  It  was  Saurus,  and  the 
people,  seeing  his  familiar  figure  in  holiday  blazon, 
cried  approval.  "Kill  yourself!"  "Away  with 
Bardas!"  "Eat  him!"  they  shouted;  and  "Long 
live  the  Lizard!"  bellowed  the  "Greens,"  who  held 
the  dwarf  of  their  Faction. 

The  march  of  the  army  sounded  louder.  A  drift 
of  white  dust  came  before. 

"Kill  him  and  strike  him  dumb!"  urged 
Xiphilin ;  then  Nicephorus  spoke. 

"Haste,  Bardas,  haste!"  he  said.  "I  wait  my 
death.  Fear  not ;  the  road  is  short  through  a  gate 
of  lean  ribs  to  this  old  heart." 


288  EUDOCIA 

But  he  would  not  strike.    Instead  he  cursed. 

"God  of  Light,  am  I  an  executioner?  Call  slaves 
and  strangle  him!" 

The  troops  came  onward,  swinging  into  the  great 
blazing  square  before  St.  Sophia's.  Company  after 
company  they  strode — masses  of  men  under  their 
officers,  armed  with  swords  and  bucklers,  beneath 
the  banners  of  battle. 

Bardas  broke  off. 

"Romanus  comes!"  he  shouted,  and  again 
Eudocia,  keeping  within  her  part,  revealed  aston- 
ishment. 

"  'Romanus  comes?' "  she  echoed.  "Who  has 
dared  to  free  Romanus  Diogenes?" 

"Ask  that  knave,"  answered  Xiphilin.  "He  set 
the  soldier  free  for  treachery ;  and  let  him  reap  the 
first  harvest  of  these  loyal  swords.  Fear  thou  not 
Romanus,  Majesty.  He  will  support  the  right 
against  this  man — aye  and  against  the  Caesar  too. 
Hasten  forward — enter  with  Bardas  and  trust  the 
general  and  his  Varangians  to  hold  back  this  rag- 
tail  rout." 

"What  say  you?"  she  asked.  "John  Ducas  a 
traitor — Constantine's  brother  a  traitor  to  my  son? 
And  our  people  our  enemies?    You  are  fallen  into 


THE  CATHEDRAL  289 

madness,  Patriarch.    Let  but  a  soldier  hurt  one  of 
our  children  and  he  wounds  Eudocia  Augusta." 

A  silence  followed,  while  every  man  and  woman 
of  the  thousands  crowded  upon  that  scene  watched 
the  great  battalions  wheel  and  halt.  To  right  and 
left  they  massed ;  then  through  their  midst,  on  foot, 
with  a  dozen  of  his  officers,  came  Diogenes — a 
mighty  figure  in  blue  steel,  armed  as  though  for 
war.  Sternly  he  swept  forward,  his  black-crested 
helmet  some  inches  above  the  best  that  strode  with 
him.  The  crowd  roared  a  doubtful  greeting  and 
many  trembled,  both  high  and  low ;  for  the  dullest 
had  perceived  that  here,  before  this  sudden  advent 
of  irresistible,  armed  power  and  discipline,  diplo- 
macy and  the  voice  of  the  mob  were  alike  of  no 
avail.  The  key  of  the  situation  lay  wholly  with 
Romanus,  and  fear  began  to  instil  the  many  hearts 
that  knew  of  his  imprisonment.  But  the  soldiers 
were  lost  in  joy  at  their  leader's  return.  There  was 
no  anger  in  their  faces.  It  seemed  they  bore  the 
State  no  grudge. 

§  3 
The  troops  and  officers  saluted  Eudocia  where 
now  she  stood  alone  on  the  topmost  stair.    Behind 


290  EUDOCIA 

her  was  the  darkness  of  the  great  central  entrance, 
now  thrown  open.  Upon  her  right  hand  huddled 
Xiphilin,  Bardas,  the  monks  and  priests,  the 
acolytes  and  sacred  emblems.  At  her  left,  equally 
withdrawn  from  her,  were  Nicephorus,  Psellus  and 
the  Caesar,  with  little  Michael  Ducas  beside  Saurus 
and  the  women. 

Again  the  scarves  of  the  Factions  danced  and 
their  lungs  gave  out  a  mighty  roar  as  Romanus 
walked  up  the  stairway. 

He  stopped  before  Eudocia  and  once  more 
saluted. 

"How  comes  it  that  Romanus  Diogenes,  at  our 
command  cast  into  prison  for  grave  faults,  is  free?" 
she  asked,  speaking  slowly  and  shutting  her  eyes 
to  hide  her  delight. 

He  bowed  his  head,  then  lifted  it  and  spoke  that 
all  might  hear. 

"On  this  great  day,  Eudocia  Augusta,  your 
armies  hungered  to  share  the  universal  exultation ; 
and  I  have  heard,  Divine  One,  that  it  was  your  will 
for  a  brief  hour  to  let  me  look  upon  your  face  again. 
A  prisoner  I  come,  and  if  upon  this  day,  so  rich  in 
hope  for  all  your  Empire,  you  cannot  pardon  me, 
then  I  return  under  seal  of  my  unbroken  faith  to 
Marmora.  Or  free,  or  bound,  I  love  you  with  an 
absolute  unquenched  loyalty ;  I  only  pray  to  devote 


THE  CATHEDRAL  291 

my  life  to  your  cause  and,  if  need  be,  lose  my  life  to 
maintain  your  sacred  throne." 

The  Factions  proclaimed  their  satisfaction  and 
boldly  called  upon  the  Queen  to  pardon  her  gen- 
eral ;  but  still  it  seemed  that  she  was  doubtful.  Her 
part  was  now  to  yield  a  little  of  her  own  vast  popu- 
larity into  the  safe  keeping  of  Romanus. 

"Audacious  one!"  she  said.  "But  if  my  people 
love  you " 

Then,  Xiphilin,  on  thorns  to  get  the  affianced 
pair  to  the  altar,  spoke  vehemently. 

"Nay,  pardon  him  without  demur,  Majesty,  and 
end  this  most  dangerous  farce.  Peril  lurks  in  it, 
therefore  crown  the  hour  with  blessed  mercy,  forget 
the  past  and  win  the  vital  succour  of  this  honest 
man.  Never  have  you  needed  honesty  about  you 
as  at  this  moment,  while  knaves  share  the  very  air 
you  breathe  and  spread  pestilence  upon  your  inno- 
cent subjects." 

"Hear  us,  then,"  she  said.  "And  let  Romanus 
Diogenes  also  hear.  Ever  ready  to  heed  your 
united  voices,  we  are  pleased  to  restore  our  general 
to  his  heroic  and  devoted  troops,  that  he  may  lead 
their  might  against  the  enemy.  To-day  let  them 
and  him  and  his  brave  leaders  rejoice  with  all  of 
us,  and  soon  we  promise  him  a  grateful  nation's  aid 
— wholehearted  and  ungrudging — to  strengthen  his 


292  EUDOCIA 

needs  and  fit  him  for  his  tremendous  task.  Hence- 
forth we  trust  Romanus  Diogenes,  much  value 
him,  and  take  his  fearless  love  as  an  earnest  of  his 
pains  to  fight  and  conquer  for  our  realm." 

The  Factions  shouted  approval  and  the  troops 
added  a  strange  quality  to  the  din,  for  they  made 
a  hollow  thunder  by  beating  on  their  shields  with 
their  swords. 

Then  Romanus,  having  first  knelt,  and  risen 
again,  replied: 

"Before  anointed  Majesty  I  make  my  vow  to  do 
her  will  with  all  my  wit  and  strength  and  soul. 
From  her  royal  inspiration  her  armies,  led  by  a 
thousand  faithful  men,  of  whom  I  am  but  one,  shall 
win  such  might  that  soon  her  myriad  foes  must  be 
her  slaves." 

Eudocia,  now  smiling,  spoke  in  joyous  tones: 

"So  be  it,  Romanus.  You  have  answered 
graciously  and  we  are  well  content.  Now  to  our 
nuptials  you  are  bidden,  since,  guided  by  God's 
angel,  Xiphilin,  our  reverend  Patriarch,  hath  set 
me  free  to  wed  at  the  dictates  of  my  heart." 

She  turned  and  again  Bardas  stepped  to  her  side ; 
but  though  he  approached  boldly,  his  feet  soon 
dragged  before  the  ominous  yell  of  anger  that  broke 
from  both  Factions.    They  were  in  earnest  and  had 


THE  CATHEDRAL  293 

not  forgotten.  Rage  made  their  voices  ugly  as  they 
bawled  again:  "A  man  for  Emperor!"  "Bardas 
shall  not  reign!" 

Then  Eudocia,  waving  the  bridegroom  back  from 
this  challenge,  addressed  herself  once  more  to  the 
people. 

"Answer  us,"  she  said.  "Do  you  not  will  that 
Bardas,  the  brother  of  your  Patriarch,  shall  be  your 
King?" 

Xiphilin  was  at  her  elbow  while  the  Factions 
shouted  their  reply. 

"Bandy  no  words !  Be  swift.  What  madness  is 
this,  to  cast  your  destiny  to  them?" 

"Nay,"  she  said.  "Mad,  or  sane,  I  must  know. 
See,  they  love  him  not.  There  is  no  voice  lifted  for 
him." 

"You  court  a  monster,"  he  hissed  under  his 
breath,  his  eyes  on  Nicephorus.  "When  did  power 
defer  to  the  passion  and  ignorance  of  the  mass? 
They  only  echo  that  accursed  traitor.  Slay  Nice- 
phorus ;  then  turn  from  them  and  bid  Diogenes  hold 
them  here.  Take  my  brother's  hand  swiftly  and  go 
with  him.  They  will  snarl  awhile,  but  forget  all 
when  herded  in  the  hippodrome.  In  God's  name  do 
not  play  with  this  danger." 

"My  destiny  lies  with  my  people,"  she  answered 


294  EUDOCIA 

loudly,  and  the  Factions  roared  again  their  parrot 
cry:  "A  man  for  Emperor!"  "Xiphilin  shall  not 
reign !"    "Away  with  Bardas !" 

The  Protostrator  had  fallen  from  fear  into  rage. 
He  issued  an  order  to  Romanus. 

"Slay  this  old  jackal  first,  then  sweep  the 
Factions  back!"  he  cried.  "Order  a  legion  to  set 
barriers  between  them  and  us." 

But  the  great  man  in  steel  ignored  him  and 
turned  to  Eudocia. 

"Is  it  Majesty's  will  I  drive  them  off?"  he 
asked. 

"Touch  them  and  you  destroy  me,"  she  answered, 
then  faced  the  crowd,  while  John  Ducas  and  Psellus 
stared  to  see  emerge  at  last  the  true  meaning  of  all 
that  was  done,  and  Mcephorus,  intent  on  every 
word,  smiled  in  his  heart  at  the  royal  pupil's  ac- 
complishment. Each  syllable,  each  gesture  was  as 
perfect  as  wit  and  love  could  make  it. 

"These  men  and  women  are  myself!"  declared 
the  Empress,  sweeping  her  hands  and  arms  to  right 
and  left.  "Their  will  is  mine — my  only  pride  and 
content  is  to  be  in  their  true  hearts.  There  only 
my  throne  is  set,  and  there  I  reign,  or  nowhere. 
Let  them  hear  how  well  I  trust  them ;  let  this  peo- 
ple feel  that  I  am  theirs — their  mother,  their  sister, 
their  Queen !    For  me  the  Factions  do  not  exist ;  I 


THE  CATHEDRAL  295 

recognise  and  reign  for  one  united  people,  to  whom 
I  am  precious,  while  to  my  heart  they  are  dearer 
far  than  crown  and  orb  and  sceptre.  Let  them 
speak  fearlessly  in  this  great  moment,  tell  me  their 
thoughts  and  declare  their  omnipotent  will, 
whether  widowed  I  shall  remain  and  rule  alone, 
or,  at  their  wish,  learn  to  love  one  whom  they  love. 
And,  if  that  be  so,  and  they  crave  an  Emperor,  let 
them  declare  him,  so  that  I  may  know  which  way 
their  spirit  turns!" 

The  Factions  burst  upon  this  speech  with  a 
reverberation  of  many  cheers.  "Eudocia  trusts 
us!"  they  shouted.  "We  are  the  wise  ones!" 
"Eudocia  Augusta  loves  us !"  "She  is  our  Mother !" 

And  then,  acting  no  more,  but  deeply  moved  by 
this  emotional  display,  Eudocia  called  them  to  come 
to  her,  bade  her  guards  lower  their  spears  and,  for 
the  first  time  in  Byzantine  history,  suffered  the  folk 
at  the  hem  of  a  royal  garment. 

"Closer  come!"  she  cried,  as  the  women  of  the 
people,  awed  to  silence,  but  braver  than  their  men, 
went  forward.  "Come,  ye  women,  come  men  also 
— all  are  dear  to  us." 

Then  she  dropped  royalty  and  spoke  in  her  own 
person,  while  a  hundred  courtiers  trembled  to  see 
the  "Greens"  and  "Blues"  flow  close  about  her. 

She  seemed  lost  awhile  in  the  flying  scarves  of 


296  EUDOCIA 

the  Factions,  and  her  tall,  white  shape  sank  in  the 
billows  of  blue  and  green.  But  they  only  sur- 
rounded and  made  clumsy  obeisance;  they  did  not 
touch  the  hands  she  outstretched  to  them. 

"Choose  my  husband  for  me!"  she  said.  "Raise 
to  my  side  your  sovereign  choice,  my  people — a 
man  worthy  of  your  throne  and  made  royal  by  your 
vote.  Then  I  shall  tell  this  glorious  wonder  to  the 
world:  that  I  had  my  husband  at  my  people's 
gift!" 

Lives  hung  in  their  answer,  but  the  comedy  was 
safely  played.  As  Mcephorus  had  prophesied,  the 
last  word  must  be  spoken  by  Constantinople,  and 
it  was  the  word  that  the  old  dramatist  meant 
should  be  spoken. 

Care  and  subtlety  went  to  his  own  attack  and  he 
had  very  truly  paved  for  Eudocia's  feet;  but  she 
and  Romanus  also  played  their  parts  to  perfect 
purpose,  and  the  three  of  them  now  won  their 
hazard  with  triumph. 

Mcephorus  had  palmed  Diogenes  upon  both 
Factions,  and  with  one  consent  they  volleyed  his 
name  till  the  great  cliffs  of  the  cathedral  front 
throbbed  and  echoed  with  it. 

"A  soldier  for  Emperor !"  was  the  cry ;  "Romanus 


THE  CATHEDRAL  297 

Diogenes!"  "Romanus  Diogenes  for  Emperor!" 
"Eudocia  and  Romanus!" 

Then,  after  this  terrific  explosion  of  a  united 
will,  whereto  the  soldiers  had  added  their  desire, 
there  fell  a  wonderful  silence. 

Xiphilin  and  his  brother  stood  frozen.  But  the 
Patriarch  now  saw  all,  and  while  Bardas  streamed 
sweat  and  gaped  with  a  fallen  jaw,  Xiphilin,  look- 
ing forward,  directed  his  people  to  retreat  into  the 
cathedral.  His  mind  ran  on  sanctuary,  yet  he  knew 
that  not  St.  Sophia's  nor  any  corner  of  the 
Kingdom  could  offer  safety  now. 

Then  Eudocia  spoke  with  a  resigned  dignity. 

"Ye  will  and  I  obey.    So  must  it  be.    Amen !" 

She  bent  her  head  to  the  people,  who  preserved  a 
moment's  silence  before  the  climax  of  their  achieve- 
ment ;  and  then  she  summoned  Romanus,  who  stood 
apart  among  his  leaders. 

'What  say  est  thou,  Cappadocian?"  she  asked. 

"This  I  say,"  he  answered:  "Before  the  Face  of 
Almighty  God,  I  will  dedicate  my  being  to  your- 
self, your  son,  and  the  dynasty." 

He  stood  with  his  eyes  upon  the  Empress,  then 
turned  to  her  women  and  spoke  again. 

"Michael,  son  of  Constantine,  come  to  me!" 


298  EUDOCIA 

The  small,  white-clad  figure  of  Michael  stole  out 
nervously  and  Romanus  took  his  hand. 

"Your  father  was  my  King,"  he  said,  "and  your 
future  crown  shall  be  sacred  while  I  live  to  fight 
for  it." 

The  Patriarch,  his  brother,  and  the  churchmen 
had  already  retreated  into  the  cathedral,  and  un- 
observed the  great  doors  were  closed  within  the 
second  narthex.  But  they  yielded  swiftly  enough 
to  attack,  and  then  a  tumultuous  company  swept 
into  the  building — the  soldiers  and  Factions  min- 
gling. Many  of  the  Varangians  and  their  centurions 
surrounded  Eudocia  and  Romanus,  to  lift  them 
together  upon  a  platform  of  their  shields.  Thus 
they  were  borne  into  St.  Sophia's. 

A  sudden  peal  of  bells  broke  out  overhead,  while 
a  great  organ  and  instruments  of  brass  rumbled 
and  blared  together  within. 

The  church  was  quickly  filled  and  thousands 
remained  outside. 

Then,  by  a  little  western  entrance  secluded  from 
observation,  hastened  the  Patriarch  in  a  black 
cassock,  shorn  of  his  robe  and  mitre ;  and  after  him 
followed  the  figure  of  Bardas.  Two  old  monks 
alone  supported  them;  and  rough  fellows  insulted 
the  Patriarch,  while  they  stopped  the  Protostrator. 


THE  CATHEDRAL  299 

He  screamed,  but  Xiphilin  hastened  forward,  while 
a  gang  of  the  "Greens"  knocked  off  the  hat  of 
Bardas  and  laughed,  when,  in  terror  of  death,  he 
offered  them  his  fine  feathers  to  let  him  go.  They 
stripped  him,  and  in  his  under  garments  he  rushed 
on  and  overtook  his  brother. 

Time  alone  would  reveal  their  temporal  punish- 
ment ;  but  for  Xiphilin  no  mortal  ingenuity  might 
plan  a  deeper  anguish  than  the  hour  had  brought 
that  saw  him  fallen.  Bardas  rubbed  his  bruises, 
and  his  tears  fell,  while  already  in  thought  he 
trembled  for  his  eyes  and  his  nose. 

"It  is  a  dream,"  he  gasped.  "We  shall  awaken, 
for  such  things  cannot  be." 

"We  have  awakened,"  answered  the  other,  "and 
only  death  heals  such  an  awakening.  Depart  from 
me,  accursed  shadow  of  a  man,  and  see  my  face  no 
more.  One  thrust  of  your  dagger  had  kept  the 
world  stable;  but  now  you  have  cast  our  race  into 
outer  darkness  for  all  time,  so  that  the  world  will 
ever  scorn  my  name  and  spit  on  yours." 

A  great  choir  chanted  in  the  cathedral  and  the 
music  rolled  out  over  the  heads  of  the  crowds. 
Through  the  open  doors,  where  light  of  many 
colours  fell  from  above  and  shot  the  gloom,  they 
could  see,  dwarfed  by  distance,  the  uplifted  altar 


300  EUDOCIA 

and  the  throng  before  it.  A  thousand  waxen 
candles  made  golden  haze  of  the  incense  smoke, 
and  a  new  Patriarch,  attired  in  the  robes  fallen 
from  Xiphilin's  shoulders,  stood  above  the  kneeling 
pair  with  his  hands  uplifted  over  their  heads. 

Then  on  that  royal  comedy,  at  once  so  barbaric 
and  unreal,  so  gorgeous,  so  massive  without,  so 
puny  and  transient  within,  the  curtain  fell.  Time 
was  already  spinning  the  thread  and  weaving  the 
pattern  of  solemnities  to  follow,  and  Fate,  having 
thrust  a  comic  interlude  upon  Byzantine  history, 
instantly  opened  graver  themes  and  composed  a 
spectacle  more  tremendous.  That  also  was 
succeeded  in  its  turn  by  mightier  pageants  of 
destruction  and  despair,  before  the  drama  of  the 
Eastern  Empire  darkened  to  its  ending  and  the 
generations  of  Christian  Constantinople  vanished 
as  a  tale  that  is  told. 


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